A Helluva Level o’ Malevolence
by Mardy Lass
Summary: Sam needs some relaxation and well-meaning Dean thinks he knows exactly what kind. A routine sourcing trip for Bobby is going to do more than bring vengeful demons back from their past. How far would you go for your brother? Or your sister? NO s4 spoilers
1. ONE: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

_**Author's Note:**_

_This wouldn't be here if my Lil Sis hadn't Beta'd every single goddamned page and MADE me finish it. I'm so glad she did!_

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* * *

**ONE:**

**Girls Just Wanna Have Fun**

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* * *

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"Anyway, he was an asshole," she said firmly. "You're better off without him and you know it."

"Yeah," the younger girl nodded with a resigned sigh. "Can we just get more drinks in now?"

"Good idea," she agreed, getting up and going to the bar. It was barely two minutes before she was back with a tray.

"When I said drinks, I meant--"

"I know," she interrupted, looking down at the six shot glasses accompanying the two beer bottles on the tray. "But there's no harm in a little extra on the side."

"That's what _he_ said," the younger one reminded her pointedly.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry," she said quickly, biting her lip.

"Forget about it," she said, making an effort to smile. "Hand me the beer first. Let's be logical about this."

The older girl, tall and willowy, smiled and sat. She lifted one beer and passed it to her young charge, pausing to take the two empties and place them on the tray.

The door to the bar room opened and the younger girl looked up to see two men walk in.

"Possibles, twelve o'clock," she hissed, as the other girl's eyes flicked up, joining her in following the two men walking to the bar. "No wait - two _definites_," she corrected. "You want the tall one?"

"Oh yeah," she smiled, letting her eyes wander up and down the brown-haired man talking to the bartender. "You want the shorter one?"

"Do I ever," she grinned, eyeing the jeans on her target as he leaned over the bar to reach for something. "Get them over here."

The older girl cleared her throat, got to her feet, and walked over to the bar slowly. There were only two other patrons at the counter, both of whom seemed much more interested in their drinks than watching her. She leaned and listened to the two men and the bartender, picking up a coaster from the counter and fiddling with it.

"So this is it?" the taller, brown-haired man was saying.

"Yup. Finest bark dust," the man said. "What the hell you two need that for, anyhow?"

"My uncle said it was good for, er, painting," he replied, handing a small leather pouch to the other man. He hefted it in his hand, pulled a shrug with his mouth and nodded at the taller accomplice. "We're just picking it up for him."

The bartender watched them with a knowing smile. "Fine, if you think you know what you're doing." He noticed the girl and then looked back at the taller man. "If you want to know how to use that there crap properly, you ask Sunny here," he smiled.

The two men turned and looked at the girl. The man seated at the bar behind her looked up too, in the mistaken belief he was being referred to. He realised the men were looking at the girl between he and they, and his head quickly sank back to the sight of his drink.

"She knows more about that stuff than anyone in this county. Sunny, tell 'em not to mess with native medicine stuff - even if it _is_ for 'painting'," the bartender was saying with a grin.

"I'll tell you that you shouldn't put it anywhere near a paintbrush," she said, then stuck her hand out. "Hi. I'm Sunny. You?"

"Not too cheerful right now, but workin' on it," the shorter one said, putting his hand up and shaking genially enough. She grinned.

"And you?" she asked the taller one, noticing his large, clear green-brown eyes.

"Ah… Sam," he managed, putting his hand out. Their fingers clashed.

"Oh, ah--"

"Sorry," he said immediately, giving a tiny embarrassed smile.

"No worries, I'm sure," she said. "Look, if you want to know about that dust you just bought, come and take a seat," she said, indicating the table and the other girl still sat.

Sam looked over, then glanced at his shorter colleague. "Oh, er, I don't know, I mean, we have to get--"

He was shoved slightly in the arm and the other one grinned from behind him. "Sure, we'd love to," he interrupted.

Sam's lip stuck out a tiny way and Sunny was sure she heard the slightest huff. She smiled though as the boys turned back to the bartender. He was looking at the male customer.

"Another one, Roger?" he offered. The man nodded and lifted his glass for him to reach.

Sunny walked back to the table and sat. She aimed serious eyes at the younger girl.

"I've bagged the tall one. He's _gorgeous_," she breathed. "_Very_ foxy."

"Yeah? So what am I left with? The ugly one?" she teased.

"Hardly," Sunny scoffed, reaching out and picking up her beer bottle.

The two boys walked over from the bar, Sam leading the way. He sat opposite Sunny politely, nodding to her and the other girl. The shorter man appeared after a moment, putting his beer down but pausing to peel off his black jacket before he sat.

"So," Sunny said. "Sam, this is Moon," she said, indicating her younger friend.

"Moon - cool name," Sam offered with a smile. She nodded.

"So long as you don't make jokes about '_beware the_'," she said politely, but Sunny cleared her throat and shot her a look. Moon made herself smile more warmly. "It's been done," she said by way of defence. Then she looked at the other man. "So do you have a name?"

"Dean," he said, nodding to them both.

"Sam and Dean," Sunny said with a large smile. "So tell me, what do you want that bark dust for?"

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you," Sam said with a smile, casting the other man a brief look.

"Really? Cos that stuff's only good for breaking curses and severing blood lines," Moon said pointedly. Sam opened his mouth, then closed it again. Moon smiled. "Or clearing bad mojo from a person's body. So which is it?"

Dean leaned forward to get his beer, watching her with slightly narrowed emerald eyes. "It's for our uncle. He's a painter," he said slowly. "He just likes the colour."

"Is that so?" Moon asked, fixing him with a look. Dean just met her gaze and Sam cleared his throat slightly.

"So, Sunny…" he began, his voice a little higher and more polite than usual, "what brings a coupla nice girls like you two out to a bar like this?"

Dean cut short his Battle Of The Eyes with Moon to roll them over at Sam in an expression of disbelief. Sam realised he was being stared at and looked at him. "What?" he asked innocently. Dean clapped a palm over his eyes and shook his head.

The two girls burst into giggles, and then Moon spoke.

"Oh I like these two, they can stay," she laughed. The boys shared a look before Sam gave an embarrassed half-smile and looked at the table.

"So what do you boys do for a living?" Sunny asked, her eyes on Sam eagerly.

"He writes articles for a magazine," Dean said. Sam nodded faithfully.

"And you?" Moon asked.

"I'm his - his -"

"Photographer," Sam put in with a smile.

"Really?" Moon asked, looking at Dean, who nodded. "You don't look like you'd know one end of a camera from the other."

"I know which end shoots," he said pointedly, and she stared at him. He returned the gaze with a slightly arched eyebrow.

"And here I thought you were gonna be another asshole. Are you?" Moon asked. Sunny gasped in surprise but Sam put his hands up quickly to interrupt her defence.

"Wasn't planning on it," Dean shot back. "Could change my mind though."

"I don't like assholes. And I don't like people who waste my time. Or Fords," she added thoughtfully.

"Well I'm with you there. But that's a lot of don't likes," he observed. "What _do_ you like?"

"I like rock and roll," she smiled.

"So put another dime in the jukebox, baby," he said, smiling suddenly.

"Don't call me baby," she said stiffly, and Dean's face fell back into a detached scowl. But she bit her lip and pushed a hand in her pocket, producing a shiny coin. "Sorry. Here - peace offering. Pick us something appropriate."

Dean studied the coin for a moment, then spared her a glance before he leaned over and took it. He looked at it in his fingers then got up slowly. She watched him walk over to the jukebox and smiled as he paged through the album covers.

"You'll have to excuse my sister," Sunny said politely, looking at Sam. "She's having a bad week."

"Oh, well, I'm sure there's a reason," he said lamely, looking back at her. He took in her long, flowing brown hair, the beautifully arched cheekbones and regal shape to her face. "You, er… You have interesting names," he offered to cover his staring. He realised his mouth had gone dry and picked up his beer.

"Most people just take the piss," Moon sighed. "I still think we should go back to our real ones and screw 'em."

"Moon," Sunny said quickly, annoyed. She turned back to Sam. "Sorry."

"No no, it's fine," he said quickly. "Why don't you use your real names anyway?"

Moon took a sip of her beer and eyed him. "Cos mine's Pukkeesis," she said flatly. Sam stared for a second, then nodded.

"I see."

"If I get funny looks being called Moon, think of all the shit I'd get for being called Pukkeesis Paloquin," she tutted. "It's alright for her, she's just Keesis," she added, gesturing to her sister with the neck of the beer bottle.

"When I was a kid I kinda got teased for my name, too, although I doubt it's the same," he smiled.

"So what's your name then? Smiles-With-His-Eyes?" Moon quipped. Sunny nudged her.

"Winchester," he grinned, his face slightly red as Sunny smiled at him shyly.

"Like the rifle?"

"Like the rifle," Sam nodded.

"So how long are you in town, Sam Like-The-Rifle?" Sunny asked.

"Ah, actually, we're supposed to be leaving tonight," he said, then flicked his gaze to the beer on the table. He noticed the girls' shots. "Oh - I'm sorry, were you expecting someone else?" he asked, his face betraying his inexplicable disappointment.

"No," Moon said, "we were expecting to get wasted."

"Ah," Sam observed, and Sunny started to laugh. Moon started too, and then Sam let himself chuckle.

Dean appeared back at the table, sitting down slowly and watching them. "Whut'd I miss?" he asked cautiously.

"Walking straight lessons," Moon managed. "Ride a lot of horses do you, Bandy-Legs?" she laughed.

Dean let his eyes roll and caught Sam looking at him, his eyebrows communicating his sympathy but also the fact that he was dying to laugh out loud.

He got up again and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Don't forget your beer, Sammy," he said quietly, leaving his jacket on the chair and walking off to the toilets.

Sunny managed to stop herself laughing. "Moon, that was rude," she admonished, but she was still giggling.

"But it was _true_," Moon protested. "Anyway, he was asking for it."

"How?" Sunny asked flatly. "He's nice enough." She stopped herself and looked at Sam. "Sorry. We're just talking about your friend like he doesn't exist. And in front of you, too."

"Actually? He's my brother," Sam grinned. "And it's kinda nice to see him getting the rough end for a change."

"Oh really?" Moon asked slyly.

"Moon," Sunny said, a blatant warning in her tone.

Moon stuck her tongue out at her, then looked at Sam. "So come on, who's this uncle and why does he need mojo-killing dust?" she asked.

"His name's Bobby. And he just likes to paint," Sam shrugged.

"Really," Moon snorted. "Well he's not going to like the colour that dust turns when it's on canvas," she said.

"Really? What colour does it go?" Sam asked, intrigued.

"Deep purple," Sunny interrupted. "And don't sniff it for a while after you mix it with water."

"How do you know all this stuff?" Sam asked, a lovely rainbow of bemusement and nervousness twisting his features into a delicate smile.

"Brought up on a reservation till we were school-age, then dumped here, there and everywhere, looked after by my grandmother," Moon interrupted.

"You're native - ah - no, American - ah - oh - indigenous perso--"

"Native Americans? Half," Sunny said.

"Just don't ask about the other half," Moon sighed.

Sunny shot her a glance and she reached for her beer, taking a few long sips.

"Sorry. Carry on," Moon said brightly, and Sam shook his head.

"So… if you know all about this stuff, then tell me why you think it's for clearing bad mojo," Sam smiled.

"Cos my grandma said it's what she used to wake a man who was a zombie," Moon said.

"Moon!" Sunny cried angrily. Moon stopped short, eyeing her older sister. "You're not suppos--. Just keep your mouth shut," she hissed, clearly out of patience.

"Whoops," Moon muttered, then looked up as Dean returned from his leisurely washroom time-out. "Hey," she said lamely. "You gonna sit or do I just apologise while you stand?"

"Apologise for whut?" Dean asked, sitting anyway. Moon sighed and then nudged her sister.

"Let me out," she said. "I got to make a pit-stop."

Sunny sighed and shuffled off the bench seat, standing and waiting for her to get out. She disappeared off to the toilets and Sunny sat again, looking at Dean ashamedly.

"Sorry about her. She's having a bad week, and she just doesn't know how to be nice right now," she said heavily.

"Sounds like it," Dean grumbled.

"The crazy thing is, she does actually like you."

"How can you tell? Is it cos I still have my eyes?" Dean sniffed, picking up his beer. Sam tutted at him but he cast him an uncaring glance before taking a long swig of his beer.

"She's just a little anti-men right now. She's normally really nice," Sunny offered. Dean put the beer back on the table, then looked at Sam.

"Well I hate to break this up, but I think our uncle really needs this paint stuff," he said. Sam's eyebrows twitched in appeal and Dean paused. "Whut?"

"He doesn't need it right _now_, does he?" he said cautiously. "I mean… he could get it tomorrow night."

Dean's slightly annoyed face slowly morphed into a crafty smile, and as Sunny watched, bemused, it stretched into a completely wicked grin.

"_Oh_, I _see_," Dean chuckled. "Right. Well in _that_ case, I'm sure the old man can wait," he nodded. "Guess whut - they got a pool table in the back, too," he said deliberately.

"That's great," Sam managed.

"You like pool?" Sunny asked. Dean nodded. "So does Moon. But I don't know how to play, really. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but she's hustled a few people out of money before."

"Is that so?" Dean grinned, getting up and feeling in his deep jeans pockets for change. He winked at Sam, then turned and walked away toward the bar.

Sam turned and looked at Sunny. "He likes pool," he said lamely. Sunny grinned.

"I noticed."

"And - er, I like, er…"

"What _do_ you like?" she asked quietly.

"I… er, well, I kinda like… er, well yeah, really," he babbled. Sunny giggled and a tide of red went up her face. She put her hand to her mouth and then let it drop, looking at him.

"You seem like a really nice guy, Sam Like-The-Rifle," she offered.

"I try to be," he ventured. She smiled and Sam looked away quickly, to his brother at the bar.

"Hey there. You got change for the table?" Dean was asking.

The bartender put down his cloth and glass and went to the cash register. "Sure do," he nodded. Dean leaned on the counter, waiting as he opened up the till and fished out some coins. He noticed the man sat at the bar was watching him.

"Evening," he nodded to him, his eyes sweeping over the shock of black hair, the rumpled Rush t-shirt and used jeans over a thin frame that smacked of off-duty Office Go-Fer.

"Is it?" the customer grumped, watching him intently. Dean just shrugged and swapped his bill for the change in the bartender's hand. He nodded his thanks, then paused as his peripheral vision took in the man's gaze still on his profile. He turned to confirm his sneaking suspicion. The man was indeed staring as if Dean were totally unaware of the scrutiny.

"You gonna propose?" Dean asked pointedly. The man blinked. "Then quit staring," Dean added politely but nevertheless firmly. The neat dark hair hunched back over the drink.

"Roger, leave the man alone," the bartender admonished as Dean walked away to the pool table. Roger looked up at him, and for the barest of moments, his eyes actually appeared black - completely and entirely black.

The bartender blinked and found Roger exactly as he expected; semi-inebriated, grumpy as usual, ready for more liquor and clearly hazel-eyed.

"Sure," he allowed. The bartender nodded to him and turned for the whisky bottle again.

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	2. TWO: More Than A Feeling

**TWO:**

**More Than A Feeling**

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**

Moon came out of the washroom to find her older sister engrossed in a conversation with the taller brother. She noticed the way Sunny kept her eyes on Sam's face, watching every tiny movement, gasping and smiling as he talked about something.

She sighed, biting her lip, loathe to go over and interrupt just so she could get her shots.

"Hey, Joan Jett," called a voice, and she turned to look across the bar-room. She saw Dean chalking a pool cue. "I rescued your beer. There's another in it if you want to play."

She looked at the pool table, finding their two half-full bottles of beer on the side, and thought about it.

"Do I have to be nice to you?" she called over.

"Not if you don't want to," he shrugged, apparently not bothered either way. She nodded.

"Good," she said, walking over and picking up the beer bottle. She finished it off, putting it on the side table and finding herself a cue.

"So what are _you_ so angry about?" Dean asked, watching her start to rack up the balls. He put his cue against the scoreboard and reached for the balls in front of him, handing them over. She took them off him and bounced them slightly harder than necessary into the rack.

"Do you care?"

"I just don't want you to lose and then blame it on the 'bad week' your sister says you're having," he sniffed.

"Who says I'm going to lose?" she demanded. She pulled the rack free and stepped back. "You first."

"Sure?"

"If I wasn't, I wouldn't have said it," she replied, a thin veneer of courtesy masking impatience about to erupt. He shrugged and walked over for his cue, picking up the white.

She watched him place it and break the pack, and a stripe flew into a pocket. She sniffed and flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder, watching as he potted two more stripes without apparent effort. She couldn't help but smile. He looked at her, shrugged, and then potted another. She let her shoulders sag in acceptance, shaking her head as she watched him pot every single remaining stripe. She saw him sink the last one and felt compelled to smile.

"Alright, point taken," she conceded. "Look, I'm sorry about being mean to you. I'm being incredibly sexist this week."

"Any particular reason? Or just another day in the feminist's battle against people with dangly bits?" he asked innocently, and she burst into uncontrolled laughter. He smiled but walked round the table, starting to retrieve the potted balls.

"I am really sorry I misjudged you and thought you might turn out to be an asshole," she managed. "Well, you might _still_ be an asshole, but at least you're funny with it."

"Thanks," he grinned.

He walked round the table and she put a hand out, holding his cue to bring him to a stop. He stood, waiting, and they looked at each other for a long moment.

"Alright… I've just had a messy break-up with my boyfriend."

"Messy how? Knives? Cross-bows? Boots?" he asked, nodding an appreciative eye at the two-inch heels attached to her heavy-looking cowboy boots. She looked down at them. "Inflict much physical pain with them?"

"I wish," she grinned. "Just the emotional kind to go round though, this time." She let go of his cue and went to find hers, hearing him racking the balls.

"So what happened - if you don't mind me asking."

She gestured him away from the table and picked up her cue, sliding it down and moving the white slightly more to her advantage.

"This boyfriend told me he loved me, that I was the only one for him. What he meant was, I was the only one stupid enough to believe he wouldn't cheat on me," she said firmly, smashing at the ball.

It flew into the pack and then into the cushion, leaping up and over. It cracked onto the floor but Dean's foot shot out and stopped it running away.

"Whoops," she said quietly, biting her lip.

He opened his mouth, about to comment on her backswing. But something about her downcast eyes and cross frown - directed more at herself than anything else - reminded him of a rather petulant young Sam. He cleared his throat and just reached down for the ball. He picked it up, rubbing it on his jeans before putting it back on the table.

"Don't worry about it. Take another shot," he said, avoiding her gaze. Instead he rolled the ball up the table and she caught it.

"It's your go," she pointed out.

"You can have mine," he shrugged. She just looked at the ball, lining it up and bending back over to look down her cue. "So you found out?" Dean asked.

"I found out. And I ended it," she said, hitting the white with a lot less effort this time. A ball rolled into a pocket slowly.

"I would have ended _him_," he offered.

"Seriously?" She looked up at him, unsure.

"Well I sure would have made it hard for him to eat without a straw for a week," he smiled.

"Perhaps you're not an asshole after all," she beamed. "So come on, show me a trick shot."

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* * *

.

After three frames of pool, Dean noticed Sam's altitudinous head rising from the table in the corner. Dean straightened and rested his pool cue against the chalkboard.

"You giving up so early? Or have I worn you down?" Moon smiled.

"Naw - need to make a stop. Be right back," he winked. She watched him walk from the table toward the neon washroom sign and put both her hands to the pool cue. She leaned on it, tilting her head and thinking for a moment.

She noticed the man still sat at the bar, and the way he was also looking over at the washroom doors. Moon frowned, trying to remember if she had seen him so interested anyone's moments other than Dean's. A whimsical smile spread over her face at the thought that crossed her mind, then she turned her attention back to studying the table, and her next move.

Dean pushed through the doors to the washroom and found Sam already soaping his hands in the sink. "So how's it going with the older sister?" he asked straight away.

"Can't I just talk to her without it meaning anything?" Sam asked, slightly annoyed.

Dean burst into laughter, hooting for almost a minute as Sam fumed at him, a pout taking up most of his face. Dean managed to stop himself. "Oh! You're _not_ joking?"

"How about you and Little Xena?" his younger brother asked him snidely, trying to cover the raging embarrassment he was feeling. He rinsed his hands off and grabbed a paper towel with a snap.

"Come on, man, she's like eighteen if she's a day," he scoffed. "Hey - you wanna swap?" he added eagerly.

"You're an asshole," Sam concluded out loud, but he was a touch too defensive about it. Dean noticed and slapped a hand to his younger brother's arm.

"Cool. Then I'll keep the little one occupied while you get in there with her sister," he confirmed, nodding with an understanding of his role so tacit that it infuriated his younger brother even more.

"Dean--"

"What else are brothers for?" Dean winked, his tongue clicking at his teeth at the same time. Sam threw his hands in the air, then balled the paper towel. He chucked it at the bin and walked out. Dean chuckled to himself, turning round to locate the urinals.

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* * *

.

Sam peeled off his jacket as he pushed the motel room door open with his foot. He yawned, holding it open for Dean to walk in behind him. He closed the door, looking round the room and shrugging in apparent indifference to the rustic decor.

Sam hung his jacket on the back of the door and slung his duffle on the first bed he saw. Dean walked over, picked it up, and unceremoniously chucked it toward the other bed, ten feet behind him.

"Dude?" Sam prompted, and Dean looked up, surprised.

"Nearest the exit," he said innocently, chucking a thumb over his shoulder just in case Sam had forgotten where it was. His brother just shrugged at him in complete confusion. "I sleep nearest the door," Dean added in a tone that slapped Sam for not already realising the obvious.

"Since when?"

"Since forever," Dean pointed out, baffled. "How much did you drink?"

"Whatever, man," Sam sighed, wiping a hand over his face. "You want the shower first?" he asked. Dean smiled at him and Sam's skin began to crawl. It was the kind of evil, knowing smile Dean reserved for really, really base observations. "What?" he dared.

"I'm in there first, man. If you can wait that long," his older brother smirked.

Sam's brows knotted together in wary curiosity.

A malicious grin swept over Dean's face and was apparently happy to stay there. "I am _not_ using the shower after your Private Happy Time, thinking about that half-Indian chick and her big-. _Smile_," he teased.

Sam's shoulders sagged. "Just go."

Dean chuckled to himself, grabbing his duffle. There was a familiar guitar strain in the air and he paused, letting his duffle drop to the bed again as he fished for his phone in his pocket. He pulled it open.

"Yeah'ello," he said smartly. "Bobby. Yeah man, we got it, no sweat," he said easily.

Sam shook his head, going to his duffle and opening it slowly, looking for shirts.

"Really? Don't you, like, need two of those?" Dean asked suddenly, sitting on the bed and putting his free hand to his boot laces. "Uh-huh. Well there's no harm in getting an extra one. You need anything else while we're out here?" He paused to cradle the phone between his ear and shoulder, putting his hands to his boot to yank it off. "Might as well. I mean, we're already here, right?" he added smoothly.

Sam paused to look at him, curious as to the persuading going on.

"You need a do-whoody-whaty?" Dean asked suddenly. "Does gettin' one of them things mean sticking around another day?" he added, dropping the boot and taking the phone in his hand again to cast a sly glance at Sam. "Cool, then I'll get you one tomorrow. Consider it done," he added. "Yeah, and you." He shut the phone.

"Bobby need something else?"

"Yup," Dean said, nodding with an abundance of sudden sadness, "looks like I'll have to spend _all day_ tomorrow looking for it. That just leaves you with nothing to do…" He paused, and Sam watched him with interest. "Oh, I know!" Dean said deliberately brightly, snapping his fingers, "You could call that Sunny chick and give her a good reason to drop the soap!"

"Dean! Could you be _any_ cruder?" he accused harshly. Dean just shrugged, his bottom lip out with his apparent inability to care. "You might spend every waking moment thinking about girls and…" Sam paused, searching for polite words, and his phone began to ring. "About girls and…" Distracted, he failed to find the words he wanted. He gave up, instead finding his phone and checking the display.

He looked up at Dean but then turned his back to him deliberately, pushing the button on the phone and slapping it to his ear.

"Hey, er, Sunny, how's it - ahm - going?" he asked politely, and Dean grinned in decidedly demonic delight. "No no - we just checked in," he said quickly. "No trouble. So what can I do for you?" he asked, his voice a little too high, a little too thin.

Something _whoomf_ed into the back of his shoulder and he turned to find that a balled-up t-shirt had bounced off him and landed on his bed. He flashed an evil look at Dean, who was pulling off his other boot and grinning in vicarious enjoyment of Sam's conversation.

"Yeah, ok. I can do that," he said easily, trying to ignore the tip of Dean's tongue poking out between his teeth in a way that, coupled with the way his eyebrows waggled up and down, made for a very suggestive show of base amusement.

Sam closed his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Two o'clock ok?"

Dean dropped his boot deliberately loudly, then stood and pulled off his heavy shirt. He shook his head in amusement as he looked around for towels.

"Cool. So I'll see you then, er, then. Yeah. Ok. I'll - er - yeah, er - that's - fine," Sam managed. Dean looked over at him as he grabbed a large blue fluffy bathsheet. "Ok, yeah, bye." Sam winced at himself and cut the call.

Dean raised his hands, his towel in one, his other waving fingers about madly. "I'll see you then-then," he mimicked in a little voice, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up," Sam snapped. "Y'know, if it was just her and me, it'd be fine. But you just stand there making stupid faces and stupid noises like some stupid little--"

"Stupid person?" Dean interrupted with a chuckle. "Aw c'mon, Sammy - lighten up. Look, once you've spent all day with this chick tomorrow and then got laid, you'll be less of a buzzkill," he said off-hand.

Sam huffed. "Get in the shower. Right. now."

"I'm going," Dean said defensively, putting his hands up in surrender. As he reached the bathroom door he drew in a deep breath. "_Baby, if I think about you, I think about luuuuuuuurve,_" he sang suddenly, in a brash, throaty voice that cut right through Sam's patience. He stepped into the smaller room. "_Darlin', if I live without you, I live without luuuuuuuurve_," he continued, as Sam made definite steps toward him. Dean chuckled and slammed the door quickly, locking it. "_And if I had the sun and the moon, an' they were shiiiiiinin', I would give you both night and day, of satisfyyyyyyin_'--"

"Dean!" Sam roared, fuming at the door.

Dean raised his voice and suddenly it was thicker than oil dregs in the sump on the Impala. "_Feel like makin' love!_" he sang, oblivious of his brother's angry gaze trying to bore a hole through the door and into his brother by sheer force of will. "_Feel like makin' love! Da-na-na-na! Da-na-na-na! Feel like makin' love! Feel like makin' love to yoooooooou!_"

"You think you're being funny," Sam bit out quietly, _but you're being really really childish_, his brain finished for him. He turned to the beds, ignoring Dean rip into the next verse as the shower started up. He looked around, thinking. "Two can play at that game…"

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* * *

.

The next afternoon, after surviving much ribbing and an excessive amount of _double entendres_ for even Dean's usual repertoire, Sam climbed out of the idling Impala with extreme gratitude. He closed the door and leaned down to see in the window.

"Impress her, Sammy. Remember, only bite if she bites first," Dean winked.

"Dean," Sam heaved in weariness, "just go."

"Ok - call me if you need anything. You _have_ got everything, huh? Huh? Phone? Money? Motel keycard? K-Y Ultra - don't neglect your vitamin E, dude."

"Dean!"

"Alright, alright," Dean chuckled, putting a hand up. "You go get triple X groovy and I'll go get Bobby some occult crap."

"Whatever," Sam managed, his face slightly red with adrenaline. Only the fear of being late stopped him from wanging open the door, dragging his brother out of the car and attempting to beat the tar out of him. "I'll call when I'm on my way back to the motel," he added.

"Yeah right," he scoffed dismissively. "Be a good boy and give her something to hang her towels on. I'll see you tomorrow," Dean winked.

Sam opened his mouth to admonish him for his childish behaviour. But the tyres spun quickly and the Impala leapt into motion, leaving him standing at the kerb, fuming. He watched the sleek black classic make it to the red traffic lights and stop.

_You know what would be a better use of my anger and deviousness? Finding a horrible way to pay him back._

The Impala's horn honked twice and Sam looked over again to find Dean's fist come out of the left window and pump up and down in the air. The lights turned green and the car pulled away smartly. He ground his teeth and re-doubled his Evil Planning efforts.

Then he looked at his watch, found himself at five to two in the afternoon, and began to walk toward the library. Still looking at his watch, he failed to realise someone was in his path. He bumped into someone's shoulder and stopped dead, looking up.

"Sorry," he said quickly, looking over the shorter man.

The shorter, thin man with a shock of rather neat black hair.

"No trouble," he mumbled, hunching his shoulders and sliding his hands into his pockets. Sam watched him walk around him deliberately with tiny, nervous steps. Then he was gone, down the street and away.

Sam turned back in the direction of the library. He had someone to meet.

.

* * *

.

Dean pulled over and killed the engine, squeaking the door open and climbing out. He locked her up and walked into the small shop, the bell tinkling as he closed the door quietly behind him.

He looked around the rows and rows of dusty bookshelves, the tables covered in scrying balls, devils' traps, bags of goofer dust and summoning cloths and for some reason, felt at home. He put his hands in his pockets and wandered to the counter. Behind it was a doorway to the back, and he studied the curtains and patterns on them before looking around the shop again leisurely. Nothing appeared to be listening or watching, and he wondered if the owner had popped out for lunch.

"Afternoon," he said cheerfully to the shop at large.

The curtain by the doorway moved and he jumped, realising that the smooth pattern he had been looking at the whole time was in fact an old woman. Like a Magic Eye picture, she suddenly shifted and drifted until he could make her out.

She shuffled off a stool and he found her about six inches shorter. She slid up to the counter.

"Whaddayouwant?" she asked, her voice an unexpectedly loud rasp.

Dean blinked. "Ah… my friend's lookin' for a… He's after a…" He looked around, suddenly hesitant under her gaze.

"Well? Do I look like I have years to waste on you?" she demanded.

Dean cleared his throat. "He needs a dream catcher stand for some witches balls."

"You got the witches balls?"

"Naw, it's just the way ma jeans ruck up," Dean quipped, running a tongue over his lower lip as he grinned. She just stared at him. "He! Ah… ye-ah, ok," he breathed to himself, looking at the counter. His smirk died a slow death under her gaze. She sniffed and he looked up again, putting his hands on the countertop. "Uh, yeah, he's already got them," he nodded.

"This dream catcher - you want Palo Santo, rosewood, meadowsweet, what?" she demanded.

"Uh… Palo Santo, please," he nodded smartly. She studied him for a moment.

Her hand shot out over the counter and grabbed his wrist. He froze, deciding to assess the danger before throwing her off him. _Besides, she's like seventy pounds of bones_, he thought reassuringly.

"Ninety pounds, if you don't mind," she said suddenly, letting go of his wrist. Dean stood back one, looking at his hand before putting it in his pocket.

"Aw hell - you a psychic, lady?"

"Maybe," she sneered, watching his reaction and finding it strange he didn't run screaming from the shop.

"Well you gonna whack me with a spoon or just sell me a dream catcher?"

"Don't rush _me_, boy," she snapped. "I ain't the one with a month left on his Crossroads contract, now am I?"

Dean's mouth opened, then he closed it again quickly. He thought about it as she backed away from the counter, bending to open a lengthy cardboard box.

"'Spose not," he muttered.

She re-appeared with a long stick, a hoop with all kinds of strange feathers and beads attached to it at irregular angles at the top. She set it on the counter, then looked up at him.

"That do it?" she asked. He put a hand out and picked it up but she slapped his harshly. He dropped it as if it burned. "I _said_, that do it?"

"Yeah," he managed, making sure he was thinking grateful thoughts. She nodded, apparently pleased, but whether it was with his effort or the thought of a sale, he couldn't be sure.

"A hundred and forty-two dollars," she said cheerfully.

Dean gaped for a second. "The stick? Or the entire store?"

"A hundred and _fifty_-two, now," she sniffed. He sighed and put his hand to his back jeans pocket for his wallet. "In cash, Mr Impatient."

He paused to look at her, then back at his wallet. He pulled out two hundred dollars and slapped it on the counter.

"Thank you," she said with a big grin, picking it up and going to the till. "Must have been a good pool night," she observed.

"Ok, you're creeping me out now," he said clearly.

"Like that would really upset me," she shot back with a boatload of sarcasm, the till jumping open. She found the change laboriously, slamming the till drawer and walking back over. "Here," she said slowly, holding the notes out.

He put his hand out and she pressed the notes into them. As her hand touched his, she hesitated and then put her other hand to his fingers, curling them round the money. She paused, staring at his hand. She didn't move for a good ten seconds, and Dean's eyes slid from side to side in unease.

"Uh… hello? Gonna need my hand back, if it's ok with you," he said cautiously.

She looked up at him slowly, then patted at his hand.

"Don't worry about him - she's only half," she said quietly. "It's _her_ you have to worry about."

His mouth moved automatically: "Whut?" Then his brain collected itself. "Who's half? Half what?"

"Use your brain," she tutted, letting his hand go abruptly. "Your _Upstairs_ Brain. Just for once." Then she turned and shuffled back to her stool.

He watched her sit herself down and fold her arms, and slowly, she disappeared once again into the background. Dean blinked, unable to find her again, even though he'd just seen her there.

He took a deep breath, opening his wallet and stuffing the bills inside. He picked up the stick to look at the gayly decorated hoop. He flicked his gaze back at the apparently empty stool, and then secreted the strange item in the inside pocket of his black jacket.

Then he turned and walked out.

The bell jingled, the door swung closed, and the old woman watched him walk down the street, past her window.

"Oh wait," she said to the shop, "did I forget to tell you to watch out for the little man with the black eyes?"


	3. THREE: Paradise City

**THREE**

**Paradise City**

.

* * *

Dean walked to the end of the street, unlocking the Impala and sliding into the driver's seat. He gave the pavement a quick cautious look around before he took the dream catcher on a stick from inside his jacket. He opened the glove box and pushed it in carefully before sniffing to himself. He looked at his watch, found it barely three o'clock, and closed the glove compartment with a slight huff.

He pulled out his keys and started the engine before turning on the radio. All he heard was white noise and he paused, checking the dial. He looked up and across to his right and realised he couldn't see the aerial.

He tutted and killed the engine, climbing out of the classic and walking round the car. He was just grasping the bobble at the end of the sunken aerial when a car passed. They honked the horn and he happened to look up.

The car had already gone, but he saw across the street to the box office of a dilapidated looking cinema. He looked down again but then paused, thinking for a second before looking up once more.

_I've seen that guy before,_ he thought slowly, eyeing the short little man. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his white shirt and black trousers stark against the colour of the goings on of the street. His shoulders hunched over and his back to him, there was nevertheless something very familiar about the man's shock of very neat black hair.

He turned it over in his mind, looking down at the aerial, trying to think where he'd seen him before. When he looked up again the man was gone. Dean did a double-take and realised there was a girl standing in front of the antique posters, arms folded, criticism evident in her stance.

He smiled then left the aerial to it. He locked the car up before pocketing the keys and checking the traffic. He jogged across the road and sneaked up behind her.

"_This_ one," he said loudly, reaching round her shoulder to point at a poster. She jumped about six inches in the air before turning round.

"Dean! Bastard," Moon breathed, putting a hand to her collarbone in relief. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking at movie posters," he said innocently.

"Really? I've been cut loose in favour of a date," she sighed, bored. Dean raised his eyebrows. She flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder, shrugging lightly. "Sunny has to do this now before time moves on."

"Sounds kinda weird," Dean fished knowingly, a big grin on his face.

Moon nodded. "She gets like this sometimes. But then, I know she's got like a hundred SMSs from your brother all last night and this morning."

"She did?" he asked, surprised. _So our love-struck puppy's been sending her messages all night, has he?_

"Yeah - she called him too, you know."

"Yeah, I heard," he smiled, looking at his feet.

"They're out around town somewhere, so I thought I'd waste some time at the movies."

"Good idea. Seriously - let's do this one," Dean said, stepping round her and leaning back on the poster, tapping his knuckles against it. She turned round and looked at it.

"Us?" she asked.

He nodded. "Well I'm bored, you're ditched - why not?" he shrugged. "And I'm gone tomorrow - who knows when I'll come across another place showing this?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Have you seen that film?" she asked with a sly smile.

"Only about fifteen times," he grinned.

She gestured to the box office. "Next showing's in twenty minutes. Tickets are on you, Dean Like-The-Rifle."

"Yes ma'am," he nodded smartly, pushing himself off the poster and heading for the girl at the ticket counter.

Moon grinned, pulling out her phone quickly.

'_At movies with the Shupshe. Have fun with your Wakshi_,' she typed quickly, sending it off to her sister.

Dean re-appeared in front of her, waving two tickets happily. "Well? '_The Evil Dead_' awaits."

"And we can't have that, can we?" she smiled, pocketing the phone.

"Hot dogs or popcorn?" he asked.

"Why choose one when you can have both?" she grinned, grabbing his arm and turning him round. She led them into the theatre, feeling much more relaxed about her day.

.

* * *

.

Dean closed the motel room door with his foot, yawning and scrubbing a hand through his hair.

"Sam?" he called, looking around. The place was empty save him and the large near-empty coffee cup in his hand. Dean grinned. "Good boy," he chuckled wickedly, going to the table and depositing the take-out cup on it. He pulled off his black jacket, hanging it on the chair and looking around.

He crossed to the bed and threw himself on it, bouncing up and down and putting his hands behind his head. He crossed his ankles and let out a long sigh of happiness.

"So, Sam, what did _you_ do all day?" he asked the room cheerfully.

He cleared his throat and affected a high Mickey Mouse-type voice. "Bummed around the library with Sunny, Dean. She's awesome, Dean, I really like her, Dean."

"Cool," he continued in his own voice. "I spent all day watching '_The Evil Dead_' - part one and then part two back-to-back - at the this little flea-pit in town, with Moon. It was a pretty cool way to waste an afternoon," he shrugged.

"Let me guess, Dean," he said quickly, changing his voice over to Mickey Mouse again, "you're just waiting for the right time to get into her pants, _Dean_."

He tutted theatrically, looking very much affronted. "Please Sam, grow up. She's like you except for being a girl. Oh no wait - you _are_ a girl," he added maliciously.

"That's not funny, Dean," he whined.

"It is from over here," Dean grinned.

The door opened suddenly and he jumped.

"Hey," Sam said cheerfully, closing the door behind him. Dean cleared his throat, eyeing him guiltily as he sat up. "Who were you talking to?"

"You lost your way to her place or something?" Dean asked quickly, not looking at him.

"Don't," Sam sighed. "We spent all day bumming round the library," he admitted.

"Uh-huh," Dean grinned knowingly, shifting his leg up to let his left foot rest on his other knee. "And then?"

"And then we got some food in town," he shrugged defensively.

"And _then_?" Dean pressed, waving his hand round in a circle. Sam just looked at him.

"And then I explained that we're leaving tomorrow anyway, and came back here. And here I am," he said clearly.

Dean slapped both hands to his eyes and fell over backwards on the bed.

"Sam! This was your last chance! What does it take to--"

"Dean, leave me alone," he said quickly. "What were _you_ doing all day, anyway?"

Dean sighed, sliding his hands off his eyes to look at the ceiling. "I went to the movies."

"By yourself? Wow, that must be a first," he said maliciously. "Do they sell Lonely Asshole size popcorn buckets?"

Dean actually chuckled, and Sam let his annoyance flounder. "Actually, I saw Moon in there," he said, sitting up again. "We sat through two classic horror films. It was kinda cool."

Sam blinked large, owlish eyes at him. "Don't tell me you're thinking about--"

"Sam, relax," Dean said quickly. "She's a biscuit older than high school. Forget about it." He paused, and Sam watched his face go through a few long-forgotten expressions - like innocence. "She's good fun though. And she worships Bruce Campbell, so she can't be all that bad."

"Whatever," Sam shrugged. "Look, it's only eleven o'clock but I'm beat. Let me sleep," he muttered.

"Of course," Dean said politely. Sam glanced at him but found him reaching for his duffle and pulling out a magazine. He watched him get comfortable with his copy of _The Fortean Times_ and shook his head, going into the bathroom.

Dean looked up at the bathroom door, waited until it was closed, and then dived stealthily for Sam's jacket on his bed. He pulled out the Blackberry and attempted to find the SMS menu. He heard water and gave up, out-foxed by the menu on the PDA, and slid it back into the inside pocket. He slid over onto his own bed and ripped open the pages of his magazine just as the door opened again.

"'Night then," Sam offered.

"Yup," Dean nodded, his eyes ostensibly tearing into an article about black dogs in his magazine.

"Turn the light out when you're done," Sam said, pleased he wasn't getting a Third Degree from his brother as to the reason he was back in his own bed.

"Yup," Dean nodded innocently. Sam thought about it, then shrugged and began stripping off, getting ready for sleep.

.

* * *

.

Dean, still in trousers that passed for pyjama bottoms - and nothing else - leaned back from the bathroom counter. He looked through the open door at Sam as his younger brother packed his duffle.

"Look, man, all I'm saying is, she's the first girl you've looked at twice in how long?" he pressed, waving his toothbrush at him, his mouth still full of bubbles and toothpaste. "Just call her and get a banging in before we leave town."

"Dean, stop talking before I make you eat that toothbrush," Sam snapped over his shoulder.

Dean huffed and grabbed the tooth mug, filling it and managing to get it all into his mouth in one go. Sam sighed, glad his brother couldn't speak while his mouth was full of toothpaste and water. But Dean spat it all out and straightened again.

"I just think you should--"

"Stop working without the right tools, Dean. Get dressed. We're leaving," he said firmly. _I don't want to go, ok? But come on, how am I supposed to get her into bed and then just leave straight after? You might specialise in stuff like that, but… She's too much to leave behind if I do._

"Whatever," Dean heaved regretfully, shaking his head. He picked up the mouthwash and spent the next ten minutes enraging Sam by gargling as if he were auditioning for the national Olympic team.

"Anytime you're ready," Sam called, sitting back on the bed and putting his elbows on his knees. He let his chin sink into his hands forlornly.

"Minute," Dean called, packing all this things back into his toiletries bag. He zipped it up and walked out, looking round for his duffle. He noticed Sam's expression and tiny cogs started to whir and spin in his brain.

Suddenly his phone rang and he caught his brother's huff before he fished it out of his jeans pocket, still on the bed. He looked at the display before he pressed to answer the call. Sam opened his mouth but Dean lifted a finger at him to stay quiet.

"Hey Bobby," he said cheerfully, eyeing Sam. "Yeah, I got the dream catcher thing," he said, and his voice did indeed sound happily successful. "Yeah… Well, we would be on our way back right now, but… er… Well, it's the damnedest thing, man…" He thought quickly. "It's ma car. Yeah, small problem." He listened to Bobby's unamused reply, but Sam opened his mouth quickly.

"_Dean!_" he hissed. Dean waved his hand in his face, turning away from him. Sam folded his arms resolutely. "Dean, don't do thi--"

"Naw, gonna have to get to a shop to use their tools," his older brother continued loudly, ignoring Sam. "I know, man… can't be helped, huh?"

Sam fumed and moved round to face him, shaking his head at him. But Dean simply flashed him a look that would have silenced a hundred hyperactive school children on a field trip and turned away again.

"Yeah, so… Hope to be on the road again tomorrow," he bluffed. "Yeah, what can I say, man? You know I'd never joke about ma car, right?" He met Sam's gaze, raising his chin confidently. "Ok, done. See you soon." He closed the phone and looked at it. "The things I do for family," he breathed, wiping his forehead.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?" Sam protested. "We can leave--"

"Dude, I told him my _car_ had a fault - ma _car_! Do you realise how hard that was? Now don't waste my sacrifice and get in there," he cried, exasperated.

Sam took a step back. "You're an--"

"An asshole, yeah I know! It's all anyone's said to me since we arrived to get Bobby's shit in the first place," he shot back. "Just do me one favour and call her, ok?"

"Why? Why is this so important to you?"

"Cos you're a _cranky bastard_ and you take the whole world on your shoulders, Sam! Just for _once_ waste one afternoon with some girl who knows how to work your kinks out! Come _on_, man! If anyone deserves a day off it's _you_, alright?" he raged.

Sam was stunned into silence.

Dean stared at him, apparently still angry. Then he blinked and looked away, clearing his throat. He sniffed, putting a hand up and rubbing the back of his neck briskly, and Sam realised he was slightly embarrassed.

"I'll call her," Sam mumbled. "You take a day off, too. If I'm such an emo freak you must be exhausted."

Dean smiled suddenly. "Woah woah woah, nobody said the F word," he replied easily. "Now just relax for once. Go meet that girl."

"Yeah," he breathed, picking up his jacket and finding his PDA. He pulled it out and searched through the numbers. "What are you going to do?" he asked, forming a small smile to cover his unease.

"Movies," Dean said cheerfully. "Who knows, might get to see the last instalment of Ash versus the Deadites."

"Good luck with that," Sam smiled, a genuine one this time, shaking his head at him. He typed away quickly at his PDA, sending the message lightning fast. "Only you would class that as a good afternoon."

"Hey - me and _Moon_, too," he pointed out. "And while I'm keeping her happy and occupied, you can go get a little yum-yum," he winked.

"Stop."

"You say that now," Dean grinned, "but wait till she's screamin' and squeezin' at your--"

"Stop! Now! Or I'll call Bobby and tell him you lied!"

"Alright! _Je_sus Sam, calm down!" he laughed. "See what I mean about being a cranky bastard?"

"Whatever," he allowed. He paused, then looked around. "You leaving now?" he asked suddenly.

"Might just laze around like this," he said cheerfully, pulling at the strings on the pyjama bottoms.

"Don't forget to have your shower," he said maliciously, "Wouldn't want Moon to find out you smell."

"Get going, Sasquatch," he said, gesturing to the front door with his chin. "I've got ma bed to enjoy."

"I don't want to know," Sam sighed, but pushed past him to the bathroom door. Dean threw himself at the bed again, rolling onto his front and pushing the pillow up under his cheek comfortably.

Sam finished up in the bathroom, coming out and stretching his arms out. He eyed his brother, then stepped back slightly. He put his arm out behind him, back in through the door of the bathroom. He bundled something under his arm, making sure Dean couldn't see him.

"Right then," he said loudly as he walked across the room. He stopped to look up at the light hanging over his head. He grinned and reached up.

"Go," Dean mumbled, already drowsy.

"I'm gone," Sam said cheerfully, "don't forget your shower." He walked to the door and let himself out quickly. He closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath and grinning from ear to ear. He pulled out his PDA and found Sunny's number. As he walked away from the motel, he pressed the number and waited for it to pick up.

"Sam! I got your SMS - am I glad you're not leaving so soon," Sunny said without even skipping a beat. He smiled self-consciously.

"Yeah, lucky, huh. Ah… would you have Moon's number? I just want to let her know Dean's itching for more movies," he said, trying to keep his voice free of excitement.

"Sure, here," Sunny said. Sam let his mouth fall open, grinning in delight as she reeled off the number.

"Thanks, Sunny, I'll call you right back," he gushed. He cut the line and dialled Moon's number. "And… here… we… go," he chuckled maliciously, stopping to look back at the motel room door. "Oh Dean, you really shouldn't have forced me into this," he laughed. The line clicked as Moon picked up. "Oh, Moon, hi," he said suavely.

"Sam?"

"Yeah… Just calling to let you know that we're staying one more day, and…"

.

* * *

.

Dean heard his phone ringing and opened an eye. He grunted something about failed lie-ins and hitched himself onto his elbows, crawling across the bed to grab at it from the side table. He flipped it open.

"Yeah'ello," he sniffed.

"Dean? Have I called at a bad time?" Moon asked. He pushed himself to sit up, wiping his face.

"Naw, just… Naw. You ok?" he asked, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, fine. Listen, Sam say's you're not leaving today after all, and there's '_Army of Darkness_' at the Bijou in a few hours. Think you can make it?" she asked. "Wouldn't be right to watch Ash getting some sugar without you there to laugh too," she teased.

"Yeah - I can make it," he smiled.

"Cool - I'll come on down then," she said brightly. "You ready to go?"

Dean paused, looking down at his state of half-dress and biting the side of his lip briefly.

"Yeah. Just gotta get ma keys," he lied.

"Great. See you soon."

"Yup."

He closed the phone and tossed it behind him, springing off the bed and hurrying to the bathroom. He raced back and snatched up his duffle, emptying it carelessly to find his toiletries. He unzipped the bag and emptied that on the bed, too, sorting through to find various soaps and shampoos. He bundled them in his hands and hurried back to the bathroom.

Shucking what few clothes he had on, he wrenched the shower wheel on and felt at the water to make sure it was piping hot. It was and he leapt under, pulling the frosted glass door shut and grabbing up the shampoo first.

A very quick, but nevertheless decidedly circumspect, shower later and he was twisting the wheel to stop the water. He blew at the drips over his face to stop them getting in his mouth and slid the glass door open quickly.

He put his hand out for the towel, groping around blindly. He paused, realising that, in his haste, he hadn't checked it was still there. He grasped the door carefully to stop himself slipping - something Sam always warned him about as if he were raging scared of Dean slipping and cracking his head open on the wet floor. Seeing as he never had and had no plans to, the thought of Sam being so ansy about it made him uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough to take extra care with wet tiles.

He stepped out, dripping and annoyed, to find there was no towel in the bathroom at all. He wiped water from his face and looked around properly, sure there should have been one on the shelves by the door, just for this purpose.

He found the rack empty and huffed, opening the bathroom door cautiously. He remembered no-one else was about and walked out, blissfully free of any clothing whatsoever. He looked around the motel room, still dripping admirably, trying to find something with which to dry himself off.

"Is a goddamn towel too much to ask?" he cried, his annoyance building. He huffed and shook at his hands to dry them slightly. "Wait - it's like the movies. No-one ever looks--"

His eyes darted up and caught sight of a fluffy blue towel, neatly folded still, sitting on the shade around the light in the ceiling. He stared at it, his lips sticking out in angry disapproval, as he realised he knew _exactly_ how it had got there.

He looked around, judged it to be the only towel available, and walked to stand underneath the hanging light. He stretched up to grab at it but missed slightly. He leaned up on his toes, shuffling round to come at it from the edge where the towel was closest. He stretched up again. His fingers brushed the edge and he grunted in frustration.

"This ain't funny, Sam."

He decided that, as it was Sam's fault he was standing butt-naked in the middle of the room trying to reach a towel, it would only be fitting to think of a way to organise some kind of pay-back on his younger sibling.

He was just muttering to himself, his mind flicking through vengeful possibilities, when he realised he could hear a faint clicking at the door to the motel. He sniffed, his fingers still pawing at the edge of the towel, as he looked over at it.

The door flew open.

Dean froze.

He stared.

It was not Sam.

Stood in the doorway, her eyes gradually sweeping up from the carpet to find his face, was Moon. Dean's mouth understood that something was trying to connect it to his brain, but it suddenly lost the capacity to make any sense at all of the words it was being told to say. His mouth opened but there was literally nothing there to come out.

Moon opened her mouth then let go of the door, letting it swing shut behind her. She stared at his face fixedly.

"Well there's something you don't see every day," she managed weakly.

Dean found himself unable to move. "No - er - towel," he blurted, rooted to the spot by some kind of abject embarrassment he had never before felt in the presence of a girl.

"Ye-ah," she allowed slowly, "I can see that." She paused, and they kept their eyes locked on each other's. "I'll er…" She cleared her throat. "I'll just back out quietly and we'll pretend this never happened," she said, forcing cheer where there was desperation.

"Yep," Dean squeaked. He cleared his throat to get his voice back. "Yep."

"Yep," she confirmed. But she didn't move.

"Yep. So… go then," he said politely, wanting nothing more than to let his hand drop from reaching for the towel. But he couldn't move.

Her cheerful smile was turning more desperate as the seconds ticked away. "Trying. Eyes are watering," she admitted, bravely keeping eye contact with him.

"Oh."

"I'll go."

"That'd be great."

"Ok then." She put her hand behind her and fumbled for the doorknob. She smiled in anguish as she scrabbled for it, starting to panic. It hit her fingers and she wrenched it open swiftly. She backed out and slammed the door behind her.

Dean found he could move again. He let his arm drop and sagged abruptly. He bent over, watching the door and putting his hands on his knees, wondering why his head was as hot as the exhaust manifold of the Impala after a five hundred mile drive. He fought with the embarrassment and managed to twist it into anger, sorting through many smaller and less important emotions to calm himself.

He straightened up again, looked up at the towel on the lamp shade, and jumped. He dragged it off and looked at it, so many evil thoughts coalescing into one solid realisation.

"I so owe you an ass-kicking, Sam," he growled, opening the towel and rubbing at his hair with it.

* * *

**_My apologies for the full-frontal male nudity. Could not be helped._**


	4. FOUR: She Brings Me Love

**FOUR: She Brings Me Love**

**.**

* * *

"So we have all day together while your brother gets his car fixed?" Sunny asked politely.

"Uh… yeah," Sam said with the unbearable lightness of being on thin ice.

"So just what do you expect us to do today?"

"Ah - nothing. --I mean… We don't have to do anything, we could just… Ah… There's an art exhibition on at the--"

"Sam, relax," she interrupted. "It's not vital that you say the right thing this second. In fact, it's completely ok if you bumble your way through every sentence you manage to get out. Let's just enjoy the fact that you're still here for today."

"Um… ok," he said lamely. He tried to smile at her but it came out more anguished, and she burst out laughing.

"Oh Sam, I'm sorry," she laughed, covering her mouth. "Come on." She put her hands through his arm and pulled him to walk on down the path through the park. "So are you going to tell me why you two are really here?" she asked, feeling his arm tense suddenly at her question.

"We're just… hanging around while Dean gets his precious car fixed," he bluffed.

"Right. Except you might have mentioned he never lets anyone touch his car, much less fix it for him, and Moon says they're watching a film. So… how is he going to work on it like that?" she pressed, looking up at him.

He chuckled in a very embarrassed fashion and she raised her eyebrows, waiting.

"Yeah, ah… He's kinda… He's trying to--"

"He's trying to keep my little sister out of our way, is that it?" she asked seriously, pulling him to a stop in the middle of the path.

"Um. Yeah," he admitted quietly.

"Because he believes if he keeps her busy, you'll have the afternoon free to get lucky," she added, pulling her hands off his arm and folding hers resolutely.

"He doesn't mean any harm, he's just--"

"Sam," she said sharply. He closed his mouth and looked at her. "When you get back in that car to drive away for good, tell him one thing from me."

He studied her damning expression, her disapproval very much apparent.

"What's that?"

"I owe him a beer," she grinned unexpectedly. "Maybe two."

Sam couldn't help it; he laughed out loud. She joined him, then put her hands back to his arm. "Well come on then," she said, tugging.

"Where are we going?"

"To my place. If you think I'm looking at paintings all afternoon when there's something else much more exciting that I have to see, you are very much mistaken," she said with a wide, bright smile. Sam's face flushed and she laughed out loud. "Oh, you _are_ a catch," she accused, pulling his arm.

.

* * *

.

"This do?" Moon asked, edging down the row and plonking herself in the middle.

"Super," Dean agreed, waiting until she was sat before handing her the hot dog and enormous bucket of popcorn. He peeled off his black jacket and threw it on the adjoining seat, getting himself sat down and comfortable.

She handed him the popcorn and he slotted it in the purpose-made armrest. The curtains over the large screen began to open as the lights faded down to black.

"So how many times have you seen this one?" she grinned, nudging his elbow over smoothly on the armrest, to replace it with hers. His elbow slipped off and he jerked downward, to her amusement.

"Enough," he admitted. Then he righted himself and spared her an amused glance laced with slyness before sliding her elbow off in return. She giggled and reached over, picking up a few pieces of his popcorn and flicking it into her mouth.

"Hey, you wanted a hot dog," he pointed out. "This is mine."

"I'm _sharing_," she smiled sweetly.

He picked out another piece and licked it, then held it out for her. "You wanna share this one, too?" he offered, blinking at her with child-like innocence.

She stuck her tongue out at him and he grinned, popping it in his mouth. They looked up as the opening credits began.

"_My name is Ash_," they both intoned along with the film, "_and I am a slave_."

She looked at him and started laughing, and he nudged at her arm on the rest again. They fought playfully for possession of the rest for a moment. Then she gave it up, instead leaning over and grabbing popcorn. He turned his head to protest and she waited, flicking it at him. He missed two pieces but dived for the last one and caught it in his mouth.

"Wow, you should do a show - you could be Dean the Performing Monkey," she laughed. He reached over and grasped at her nearly empty bottle of water. He squeezed suddenly and the top flew off, into the rows in front of them. She slapped her hands over her mouth to dampen her raucous laughter. The fact that she couldn't control it made Dean laugh too.

"Hey! You might be the only two in here, but keep it down!" came a voice from behind them.

They twisted and looked at the glass window of the projection room above them. Then they looked at each other and slid down in the seats guiltily.

They got comfortable and slowly but surely, were pulled into the film.

.

* * *

.

Sam felt something tickle across his shoulder blade and thought about it for a whole minute before he opened an eye.

The pillow pressed into his face smelt faintly of lavender and he smiled, half due to being tickled, half due to sheer smugness.

_Dean was right_, he thought to himself. He opened the other eye as the mystery crawling that was tickling over his skin reached the hair brushing the back of his neck.

"See? This was so much more fun than those paintings," Sunny sighed, pushing herself up to lie on his back. She looked over his shoulder, leaning her face round to see his. "Oh my god - is that a smile? A real, unstressed, unforced smile?" she teased.

"Might be," Sam admitted. He put his left hand under him to push himself up, and Sunny just watched the muscles in his arm share the load around. She fell onto her back as he turned to lie on his left side, looking at her. "Ok, yeah, it's a lot more fun," he grinned.

She put her hand out to his arm, squeezing slightly. "I have a serious question now, Sam," she breathed.

"What?" he asked, his eyes troubled by something at which she could only guess.

"Well… Do you think Moon will be ok with your brother?"

Sam let a small smile battle for, and win, time on his lips. "Yes," he said confidently. "They'll be fine."

"You sure? My sister can be a handful at times," she pointed out bravely. Sam sucked in a breath, blowing it out between his smiling teeth slowly.

"I think," he said, reaching out and smoothing the soft hair from her face with a gentle hand, "they're probably having as much fun as we are."

A jolt of alarm went through her expression. "What?" she demanded. She sat up swiftly, looking round her room for her jeans and, by extension, phone.

"No! I meant - I meant they're watching a movie! They'll be fine," he said quickly.

She sagged and looked back at him. "Oh," she said guiltily. "I didn't mean--. Oh. I didn't mean to say that your brother would--. Ah," she havered, embarrassment on her face.

"It's ok," he allowed. "Dean's a little… single-minded at times. But he knows when to draw a line," he nodded. _At least, I hope he does…_

Sunny lay back, relieved. She turned her head and looked at Sam, realising he was studying her, too.

"I'm sorry for staring," she mumbled.

"I'm doing it too," he pointed out gamely.

"I'm trying to commit your face to memory. You'll be gone tomorrow."

"Yeah," he breathed with unease.

She closed her eyes and scooted over, fitting herself against his front. She felt his hand slide down her arm warmly, his chin resting on the top of her head. Her mind shied away from the knowledge that he would have to leave soon.

She thought he was the handsomest, most fun man she had ever met.

He thought she was the bright centre of his dark universe.

.

* * *

.

"_Aww no!_" Dean and Moon chorused along with the climax of the film, "_I slept too loooong!_"

They dissolved into laughter as the picture faded to black and the ominous sound of Ash cackling crazily away filled the theatre. She picked up her bottle of water, still lidless, and finished it off quickly. Dean upended the cardboard popcorn bucket and slid the remnants into his mouth, and they watched the end credits roll up.

"So… That's the end of Ash and the Deadites," he observed.

"So…" She looked at her watch, then back at him. "So it's only six. I'm bored again, now. I need constant entertainment," admitted, deadpan.

"So what do we do?" Dean grinned.

"You could get nekkid again," she said seriously. "This time I'm prepared - I have my camera phone and everything. It could be on YouTube in an hour." She paused, then laughed out loud at the shame and creeping horror running off his face like rain from his Beloved's windshield. "I'm joking!"

"Well, yeah, I knew that," he managed, twisting his face into a smile. He cleared his throat. "Ah… I have a question," he added slowly.

"Oh-ho - let me guess what _that's_ going to be," she grinned. He just blinked at her, confused, and she cleared her throat. "What is it?"

"How did you get the keycard to the room?"

"Oh! That's easy. Sam gave it me - he said you were ready to go, and I might as well wait inside," she said innocently. She watched the older Winchester shoot an angry look at his feet and a wide smile covered her face. "Is this some kind of brother war?"

"Not yet," Dean breathed, then looked up at her sweetly. "Could be, though. And it could get messy," he promised.

She smiled, then got up slowly, picking up her bag. "So?"

"So…"

"We could stay for the next showing?" she offered.

Dean stood up and stretched, scrubbing at his face. "I don't know - it's getting to Food O'clock."

"Do you even know what the next film is?" she asked slyly.

"No, but you're about to tell me," he guessed.

"It's '_Re-Animator_'."

"I'll get the tickets."

"I'll get the popcorn," she grinned, and they grabbed up belongings before making for the exit.

.

* * *

.

He opened the door silently, gliding his way through the darkness to the very last row of empty seats. He moved the seat down without noise, lowering himself into it and sitting bolt upright.

He looked across the rows in front of him, locating only two heads in the entire place. One was shorter, barely reaching the top of the seat, and appeared dark. The other was a whole head above the top of the seat, more lightly-coloured. The film, squealing and boiling with action and thrilling danger beyond them, cast strange white haloes around the ears of the taller head.

He waited, watching patiently. The film burst into black credits and the two heads moved and cheered, making enough noise to waken anyone who might have been sleeping.

But there was no-one else in the place. He sank down into his seat as the names ran up the screen and the two members of the audience began to stand and stretch. He watched them collect their accoutrements and then the taller, wider one picked up jackets and a bag, edging out to the end of the row and standing in the aisle.

He slid further down in his seat, determined not to be noticed as they walked up the sloping steps, laughing and pushing at each other. They passed by him without even a glance, so intent were they on discussing the politics of changing continuation, feel-good S-Mart endings for apocalyptic, sleep-too-long downers, and how cats really should only need killing once.

He waited until he heard the theatre door close behind him, then silently got to his feet. He pushed out of the door and plunged his hands deep into his pockets, hunching over as he found them standing in the foyer.

"What's a _Shupshe_?" Dean asked innocently, looking over Moon's shorter shoulder. She whipped the phone against her front, turning and looking up at him.

"None of your business," she grinned.

"C'mon, that's me, right? What is it?" he asked.

"Not telling," she smiled. She finished her SMS to her sister, sending it off and pocketing the phone.

"I've sprung for movies for two days. Come on," he pressed. "Tell me."

"Over my dead body!" she giggled. "It's an Indian thing. You wouldn't understand."

He shrugged, then looked over at the front door. "Aw hell," he grumbled, and she turned and looked.

The skies had opened and it was bucketing down, the nine o'clock pitch made all the more uninviting by the rain. She put her hands on her hips.

"And I was gonna suggest we get some pie and talk about Herbert West," she sighed forlornly.

"Pie?" Dean asked, his ears pricking up eagerly. "Where there's pie, there's a way," he grinned, holding his arm out. She put hers through it and they walked to the exit, opening the door and looking out.

"All we have to do is get across the street," she said with affected melodrama. "Should be easy for a seasoned Hunter. Am I right?"

"Whut?" he asked, surprised. She rolled her eyes with a smile.

"Oh come on, it's practically stamped on your forehead," she shrugged. He let his arm drop slowly from around hers, she noticed.

"That obvious, huh?" he said quietly, and she almost thought he looked ashamed. She frowned, then put a hand to his sleeve.

"You wanted to pretend you weren't? Just for one day?" she asked quietly. His eyes ranged around the doors in front of them guiltily as he cleared his throat. She kicked herself and took a deep breath. "Look - pie. Focus on the pie," she said clearly, with a hint of humour to her dark eyes. "Are we going to make it across this dangerously wet street in the dark?" She put her hand out to his arm, shaking playfully. "Or is a little bit of rain too much for you, Dean Like-The-Rifle?"

He looked at her, his good mood already getting its tools out to start repairing itself. "Oh sweetheart," he said knowingly, "if that's a pie shop, there ain't nothing that can stop us."

She giggled as he pulled at his jacket collar, lifting it to cover her head and half of his. She scootched herself between him and his arm, and he looked down at her.

"Ready? One… two… three… and _go_!" he cried.

They jumped off the step and ran across the deserted road, not stopping till they banged, chuckling, into the brick wall of the diner. She felt his arms drop a little but he still held his jacket over her faithfully. She smiled, stepping out from underneath his protection and opening the door to her right.

They walked in the diner, finding only three people already in there, and squelched over to a booth in the far corner. She slid in quickly, smoothing her damp hair from her face and straightening her shirt. He pulled off the wet jacket and slid in opposite her. He dumped the jacket over the seat and slapped his hands together, rubbing them briskly.

The neons blinked and fizzed in the rain outside the window, and they gratefully ordered two slices of pie from the cheerful waitress that appeared. They chatted, they ridiculed, they teased.

They loved it.

"So then he comes in, dripping with gods-know-what, and just lifts his hands and goes '_I'm never using girls from that establishment again_'," Moon chuckled.

Dean almost spat out his mouthful of pie, laughing so hard she feared he'd choke. She leaned across and patted at his shoulder, trying to reach his back, and he put down his fork, reaching for his beer.

"And then?" he gasped, swigging at it.

"And then I gave him the Yellow Pages," she said smugly.

He grinned, putting his beer down. "Sounds like something--." He stopped suddenly, a slow tongue over his upper lip in thought.

"Something like what?" she asked, amused.

_Sounds like something Sammy would have pulled_, he admitted to himself. He looked over at her, watching her fold her arms and grin at the knowledge that she had got one over on a bunch of college boys older than her, due to nothing but her natural wit and intelligence. _That's why she freaks me out. That's why I totally lost it when she caught me with my pants down. She reminds me too much of Sam. Young Sam. Young I'm-too-young-to-see-this-kinda-shit Sam. She's not Sam, she's nothing like Sam, but… is that how he used to be? Before it all went dark?_

She leaned over, putting a slow hand out and taking his amulet in her fingers. She studied it at length, biting her lip slowly. He just waited, watching her dark eyes slide over it in acute appreciation of a mystery.

"You know," she began quietly, letting go of the small figure and sitting back, "you…" She fell silent and he waited.

"Whut?" he dared quietly, watching her with slight trepidation.

She folded her arms with a slowness born of curiosity, or something similar. "What are you thinking?" she asked gently.

He eyed her cautiously, then made his gaze drop to the plate and pie. "Nuthin'," he lied easily. He carved off a piece of pastry and shovelled it onto the fork. He looked up to find her watching him still. "What are you thinking?"

She smiled. "Nothing."

Dean was thinking he was having the kind of fun that only ever came with Sam in a good mood. Before he had upped and left for Stanford.

Moon thought Dean was the Everyman from legend, the noblest soul she had ever encountered.

They swapped plates and tried each other's pie. They ordered more beer and time was of no consequence.

So engrossed where they in their damn good time and private bittersweet thoughts that they completely failed to notice the young man watching them from the counter seat.

He accepted the coffee from the waitress behind the counter, then returned his attention to the over-bar mirror, and the two people talking and laughing. And as he blinked black orbs, he began to smile.

.

* * *

.

Sam came out of the bathroom and rubbed briskly at his hair with the towel. Sunny looked at her watch and hid her upset, swinging her feet against the bed, watching them forlornly.

"So my brother won't be up yet. I'll be getting him some breakfast on the way back. You could… come with me," he offered hopefully. She raised her eyes and looked at him.

"Yeah, ok," she said, trying to remain cheerful. He gave a sad smile and she pushed herself off the bed, checking she had everything in her bag. "Well I'm all ready, just waiting for you," she teased.

"Hey, I'll find my shoes and I'm done," he said gently. She looked at her feet, then drifted back and watched him sit on her bed. He picked up a trainer, pulling it on and lacing it.

"Will you come back this way one day?" she asked. "You know, when your painter uncle needs more bark dust?"

"I hope so," he breathed. He leaned over and picked up his other trainer. "Maybe… We have a lot to sort out, and soon," he added, as if to himself.

"Sounds ominous," she fished.

He laced his remaining trainer and looked at her. "It is."

"You could ask for Moon's help," she said quietly. "She… She knows a little about a lot of things," she added nervously.

"Enough to make her dangerous?" Sam smiled as he stood.

"Yeah," she allowed.

"Then maybe I'll ask if she knows anything about finding a way for me to retire," he breathed, looking round the room and finding his things.

"I thought you were a journalist - freelance," she said.

"I am. Gets you down sometimes," he shrugged, moving to her bedroom door. She followed him out and they walked out of the large house, toward warm food in the cool morning air.

.

* * *

.

"No! In the head?" Moon gasped, giggling.

"Yup," Dean nodded. "Only way to keep the damned thing in the grave bed."

Moon shook her head, leaning back in her seat, watching him sip at what felt like the hundredth coffee.

"I _knew_ you weren't a photographer," she said suddenly.

"And how did you know that?" he smiled, a little curious.

"I could smell it."

"Hey, I showered and everything 'fore I came out," he said mock-archly.

"Yeah - I _know_," she winked.

"Ah… Sorry if I kinda freaked you out there," he managed, knowing the strange feeling of embarrassment was creeping up his spine again. He shook it off bravely.

"Oh, you have _nothing_ to be sorry for," she scoffed, then looked at his surprised expression.

He cleared his throat and then rubbed at his nose casually, picking up his coffee again. "So how many Hunters do you know?"

"Aside from you?"

"And Sam," he smiled.

"Actually? Not many. I know Jimmy the barman sells a lot stuff to a lot people. And apart from medicine and… Seeing, I don't really do much."

"Seeing whut?" he asked innocently.

"Things. People. Places. What you're thinking," she shrugged, not quite meeting his gaze.

"You're a psychic?" he blurted. _What is it with this town?_

"Well don't shout, they'll all want one," she grinned, and he looked around before he managed a smile. "Not a very good one, I'm afraid. And no, I've never listened in on you," she winked.

"Never?" he wondered.

"Never. It would be… rude." She looked at the window to her right. "What time is it?" she asked suddenly.

"Oh, it's only…" He looked at his watch. "Holy crap, it's nearly eight in the morning!" he realised. "We been here all night?"

"Looks that way," she smiled. "Look, I've had a really good time with you… It's been fun," she managed.

"But you want me and my brother out of your little town," be guessed, knowing his shoulders were starting to sag in disappointment.

"Actually… It'd be nice if you both stayed around. But I get the feeling you have things to do. So if you come by here again, you have to promise you'll find me. You know by then that new Bruce Campbell film might be out," she winked.

He grinned. "Yeah, ok," he allowed. "If I'm around," he added more seriously. She tilted her head slightly, curious, but he looked away to the counter deliberately. He waved a hand at the waitress and she came over with the cheque.

Moon got up to leave, gathering up her bag and jacket. She stretched and then went through her bag quickly, looking for her purse. However, Dean had already pulled out his wallet and left notes on the table.

"You bought all the tickets," she pointed out.

"It's pool money," he shrugged, and she smiled, dropping her purse back into her bag.

"Well then," she said, then looked around sadly. Dean nodded, not exactly cheerful himself. "We could walk back to your car together," she ventured.

"I could give you a lift back to the motel," he beamed. "We could wait till Sam and Sunny turn up."

"That we could," she nodded. He waved her toward the door and they walked to the exit.

And as Dean opened the door and held it open for Moon to leave, the dark haired man got up from his stool at the counter.

He grasped his pencil-thin black tie and straightened it, his black orbs blinking eagerly as he followed.

.

* * *

.

Dean pushed the keycard in the motel door and opened it wide, walking in without even looking up. He rubbed a hand over his resentful forehead as he tossed the keycard and his jacket at the wooden table.

"You know," he said over his shoulder at Moon, already turning to see her as she walked in the door. "I'm really not gonna be happy about leaving this place so soon."

Moon closed the door behind her and leaned on it. Then her eyes went past Dean and she jumped in surprise. She stared over his shoulder and he turned quickly.

A man, short, hunched, wearing a pair of smart black trousers and a white shirt, was adjusting his narrow black tie as he sat on the far bed, watching them.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded, taking a step back.

"A very accurate question," the man said, mostly to himself, it seemed. He let go of his tie and put his hands in his lap nervously. He looked at Moon, then at Dean.

"You're the man from Jimmy's bar - you were watching us play pool," Moon said suddenly.

"I'm waiting," the man allowed.

"For whut?" Dean asked. He took a step closer, but Moon sprang forward and grabbed his sleeve, pulling him to a stop. He looked back at her and she shook her head quickly. He looked back at the man.

"I've been waiting a long time. Watching, searching, waiting for this day. And here we are," he said pleasantly, in small, clipped utterances. He got up off the bed, his hands sliding into his pockets, his shoulders rounding as he sloped closer to them. Moon's grip on Dean's sleeve tightened and she took a step back. But Dean put a hand up to hers, freeing his arm. He stepped to his right slightly, in between her and the rail-thin, slouching man.

"What do you want?" he asked carefully.

"Not the girl. She is of no consequence," he said off-hand. "I'll get rid of her."

Dean's eyes narrowed. The man reached out for her. Dean grabbed at his outstretched wrist. He twisted it down and through the air. He snatched at the man's other shoulder and had his arm up behind his back before Moon could blink.

"You lay a finger on her and I'll kill you," Dean snapped in his ear.

"Oh _Dean_, you misunderstand me," the man said.

Dean stiffened, a very, very bad feeling stealing up his spine. "How do you know my name?"

The man struggled against his arm, but Dean rammed it up across his back higher. He squeaked and stopped.

"You can't do this to me!" he whined suddenly. He stopped struggling and closed his eyes.

Dean felt himself lifted off his feet. The next thing he felt was a vicious thump at the back of his head that threatened to knock him out.

He grunted with the pain, unable to move anything but his head.

"See now, that's much better," the little man said snidely, turning to look at his audience. Dean blinked to clear his vision, finding the slight man leaning down to offer his hand to Moon. She was sat on the floor, quivering lightly. "Don't be afraid," he said shortly. "I'm not here for you, my dear."

"Who are you here for - or is that a stupid question?" Dean grunted. He took in the fact he was plastered against a wall. He suddenly realised his boots were dangling free of the floor. A creeping horror went through him as he watched the man help Moon to her feet.

He smiled at her and she cried out suddenly. She skittered away from him, bumping into the back wall and scrabbling at it in an effort to get further away.

"_Kitchi-manitou!_" she spat, pointing at him with hatred. Dean followed her finger and looked back at the ineffectual little man.

He laughed a nasal, uncomfortable sound. "No need to be rude, my dear. I'm so much more than a nasty spirit."

He blinked, and Dean's fear was realised. The little man watched them with his demonic black eyes, a large, unctuous smile on his face.

"Now then," he said calmly, stepping back and finding the bed, "let's wait for Sam, shall we?"

He sat, folded his arms, and continued to smile at them both.

.


	5. FIVE: Knockin' On Heaven's Door

_**Notes:**_

_**Contains references to episodes 1.16 'Shadow', 2.10 'Hunted' and 3.12 'Jus In Bello'.**_

_**

* * *

  
**_

**FIVE:**

**Knockin' On Heaven's Door**

**

* * *

  
**

"Just stay still, Dean," the man said mildly, stepping back. "Stop struggling. You're making me feel tired."

"Wouldn't want that," Dean grunted, still straining against the unseen bonds holding him to the wall.

Moon slid further to her left against the wall, to be further away from him. He noticed and turned his head to watch her.

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked with a voice that could have scratched glass. He flicked out a hand.

Moon screamed, pinned back against the wall. She slid up to stop a good four feet off the carpet.

"Let her go, you evil son of a bitch! She doesn't even know what you are!" Dean raged.

The man turned his head slightly, looking Dean over. "Do you?"

"You're a demon! And not a very good one or you wouldn't be waiting in some second-rate motel room for what you want!" he shot back.

"That wasn't nice," the man said peevishly, walking over with small, nervous steps. He stopped in front of Dean, eyeing him.

"I'm not a nice person," Dean growled. "Let me down, I'll show you."

"Let you down… That's a good one," the little man allowed, one side of his face smiling. The other side simply waited, watching Dean with intent. "I could let you _down_… all the way down. Right now. A month early. Would you like that?"

"Why don't you?" Dean spat.

"I need both of you," the man snapped suddenly, taking a step back. "I need two Winchesters together. Just one doesn't cut it."

"Need two of us for what?"

"Please, Dean. You must think me as naiive as this poor girl here." He turned and looked at her. "What makes you special? Why has he spent the past two days with you? What have you been telling him?" he demanded in a thin voice.

Moon stared at him, her eyes pinned wide open in fear. She was trying to control her breathing, trying to keep a lid on the fear.

"Tell me!" he shouted suddenly. He stamped his foot, balling his fists impatiently.

"Aww, what's the matter?" Dean breathed maliciously. "She not scared of you? She not buying into this demon thing, huh?" he pressed. He risked a look at Moon, saw her swallow and raise her chin. _Good girl_. "I'll bet she's got a million legends of proper demons and bad-ass spirit warriors a thousand times scarier than _you_, Office Boy. You want her to cower like a girl in front of you? You'd better be worth it," he sneered.

The man began to shake visibly, and Dean looked back at Moon. She sniffed, trying to straighten her back.

"Tell me, did you pick this lame-ass to possess?" Dean jeered. "Or was this the only one mook enough to let you in? Cos I've gotta tell you, you're about the lowest of the bargain basement demons I've ever seen - or sent back to Hell."

The man turned his black eyes on him, walking over with neat little steps that didn't even make a noise.

"You shut up," he squeaked quietly. "I need Sam too, or you'd be dead already."

"You think Sam's going to walk in here? He ain't coming, pal," Dean smiled. "He's busy gettin' his rocks off - if you even know what that means," he sneered, sticking his chin out at the small man staring up at him. "He's fifty miles from here, and he ain't planning on coming back any time soon."

The man snarled something and snapped his head round to glare at Moon, thinking. His orbs shone in the morning light from the windows and she caught her breath, willing herself to stop shaking. Then he looked back at Dean.

"You're lying," he breathed.

"I'm wishing I'd brought breakfast with me - cos we're gonna be in for a long wait," he replied with a firmness that the demon really didn't take to.

There was a familiar guitar strain and Dean let his head sink back to the wall, closing his eyes.

"Answer your phone. Tell him to come back now," the man ordered.

Dean lifted his head and looked down at him. "Go. To. Hell."

The man fumed as the ringtone continued, marching over to Moon and waving a hand at her. She fell to the floor and Dean strained and struggled against the wall as she sprang to her feet frantically.

"Tell him, or I kill her right now," the demon barked, his hand whipping out and into her throat. "Or maybe I'll just borrow her for a while, burn through her and then use up her sister, too."

"Alright!" Dean roared. "Let me go so I can move my arm, ya brainless dick!"

The ringtone stopped.

The man squeezed on her throat but Moon's mouth did not open. Dean felt himself sliding and landed on the carpet with an abrupt thud. He scrabbled for the phone quickly, snapping it open. He pressed a few buttons and found the missed call, pushing at the phone to call it back.

He put a hand out to the wall to help himself up, pressing the phone to his ear. The line clicked.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Sam, it's me. You rang?" he asked, trying to sound genial. He turned quickly as he heard Moon whimper slightly. The man simply held her throat, watching Dean with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, ah… I just wondered if you were awake and if you needed breakfast," Sam's voice returned, sounding slightly wary.

"Absolutely, man," Dean said gratefully. "I threw out the pizza we left in the room - it was a little _funky_," he added, deliberately not looking at the man holding Moon against the wallpaper.

"Right," Sam said slowly. There was a pause. "You want pie then?"

"Yeah, pie'll be fine."

"What kind?"

"Anything with spice."

"What kind?"

"Nut_meg_," Dean sniffed.

"Meg?"

"Something similar. That kinda thing."

"I get it. I'll stop and get us something. I'm on the way. Don't do anything to spoil the food when I get there, I'm not eating it on my own," Sam said carefully.

"Gotcha," Dean nodded. The line was cut and he closed the phone slowly. He swivelled eyes that could have smashed a window if thrown, and fixed them on the demon.

"There, see? Wasn't so hard, was it?" the demon said petulantly. He let go of her throat quickly, stepping back one.

Moon felt her way over the wallpaper and the man stepped back quickly, as if loathe to be in her way. She noticed and hurried across the wall, banging into Dean and grabbing his arm. He pulled it free of her grasp but put it round her instead. He could feel her trembling and squeezed her against his side.

"Don't panic," he hissed, trying to look down at her head pressing into his neck. "It's not over yet."

She nodded but didn't lift her head.

The man smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Yes, that's right," he said, suddenly silky-smooth. "Dean Winchester, always the hero, always the protector, always looking out for family. You want to know why I'm here?"

"I'll lose sleep if you don't tell me," he spat.

"_Family_. It all comes down to family," he grinned. "You, Sam, these two. Do you know what her grandmother did, Dean? To _her_? Do you know why they were moved from reservation to reservation for years? Why they can't go back to Kansas?"

"You're from Kansas?" Dean whispered to Moon's hair. "You never said."

"Of course she wouldn't. She's exiled, they both are. Her grandmother was a shaman. A very good one. She schooled the both of them, but the older sister's heart wasn't in it. She didn't understand it all like Moon here did, did she?" he accused. Moon didn't move. "She didn't care like you did, did she?"

Moon's hand grabbed the front of Dean's t-shirt abruptly, twisting it to pull herself closer to him.

"Shut up," Dean growled at him.

"Oh, I see! What's the matter, Dean? She a replacement for Sam this week? Someone else you want to protect, even though they're more unsalvageable than even you?"

"Everyone's salvageable," Dean snapped.

"Says the man who doesn't want to be saved from The Pit," he grinned. "Or is it one rule for them, and one rule for you and Sam, hmm?"

"So you been watching us all week, huh?" Dean growled. "What, you got nothing else better to do than tail us round this little place out in Bumblefuck, Generic Town? No pestilence to spread? No graffiti to write on washroom walls?"

"You killed her, Dean! You and that overly-sensitive walking-timebomb brother of yours!"

"Who? Another demon? Your sweetheart? Aww, don't tell me, I accidentally scraped her off my shoe one night, leaving some rat-infested whorehouse?"

"My sister! My older sister! You killed her!" the man screamed.

An ugly silence descended upon the room. The two men stared at each other.

"If she was a demon," Dean said quietly, but with such force that Moon squeezed her eyes shut in terror, "then she deserved it."

The man started to shake with anger. Dean straightened up as far as he could go, certain that Sam would arrive too late to help anyone. He shifted to try and move Moon more to his side, but she would not relinquish her hold on him.

"You… I am going to enjoy _flaying the flesh from your bones_!" the man screamed.

The door to Dean's right crashed open. A tall figure filled the doorway. Dean gripped Moon's shoulders to him and simply threw them to the side.

Sam rushed in and didn't stop. His arms swung up and something flew through the air.

The man lifted his hands and Sam was propelled off his feet.

A great deluge of water suddenly hammered into the man and the carpet around him as the bucket Sam had thrown delivered its payload. Gallons of holy water spread itself over him and he screamed again, this time in agony.

Sam found himself free and rolled. He saw Dean already scrambling to his feet, grabbing at Moon's arm to drag her up too.

"Run!" he shouted at her.

Sam got to his feet and yanked a paperback book from his back pocket. He heard the man still screaming and looked up even as he paged through it quickly. The man was writhing and whimpering on the floor.

Sam took a deep breath and found the passage in Latin he needed to start the exorcism. He opened his mouth.

The book was wrenched from his hands. It flew up and into the ceiling, stuck to the paint. Sam had time to gasp and then look at the man.

He was crawling to his feet, his black eyes shining with anger.

"Sam Winchester," he breathed, hissing in pain as he found his feet. "I won't kill you just yet - I'll borrow you," he hissed.

But he froze. Sam's ears registered a low hissing noise. Both he and the demon followed the steadily more insistent sound. They turned and found Moon clutching at a small pendent round her neck. Her eyes were squeezed closed, her mouth moving in small whispers that were sending small jerks and shivers down the little man's spine.

"Moon! No!" came a shout.

"Sunny, I said wait in the car!" Sam accused.

Sunny stumbled through what was left of the motel room doorway. But her younger sister did not stop her whispering. Sam looked at Dean, already looking for the exit. Sam's book fell suddenly from the ceiling, hitting his foot. He ignored it, looking at the demon to find him starting to straighten and step backwards.

"Sam! Go! Go!" Dean called. He grabbed Moon's arm and pulled her along behind him, ignoring her strange sounding words.

Sam turned and rushed to the open door, snatching at Sunny's arms and pushing her from the room.

"No!" the man raged. He coughed and jerked painfully, grabbing onto his head and crying out in agony. Moon chanted and whispered and he fell to his knees, trying to cover his ears. "_Nnngghh! Noooo!_ You _impudent_ child!" he roared.

He stretched out a hand.

Sam grasped Sunny and hauled her into him. He turned his back to the man's hand, putting himself in the line of fire.

But it was Moon who was plucked from the floor. Dean refused to let go and he felt his feet leave the carpet. The world turned upside down and then everything landed on his head.

He heard Sam shout, realised his eyes were shut. He heard a whimper of pain nearby and forced his eyes open.

He found himself on his back, Moon collapsed on the floor nearby. He looked across her and saw the demon, struggling to his hands and knees. The possessed form cried out with pain and anger, then lifted his head and their eyes locked.

"I'll kill - you - all," he ground out.

Dean hauled himself over onto his front. He reached for Moon.

The demon let out an angry shout, then suddenly he collapsed, black smoke shooting and billowing round the little man on the floor.

Dean took a deep breath and dived over Moon, covering her as much as he could with his own body. He looked up, watching the black smoke twist and turn, trying to find a way into someone, anyone else.

"_Saaauum!_ Get Sunny!" he shouted.

"Got her!" came the answering shout.

Dean watched the smoke fearfully, the motel room whirling and groaning in response to the evil shade trying to find a new home. Tendrils of Stygian air stroked over Sam's back, searching for a way in. They glided over his head and then pulled back quickly. They turned their attention to Dean, leaping across the room and descending on his shoulder. He felt nothing, but he knew they were trying to worm their way under, trying to either get into him or Moon.

But suddenly the smoke yanked itself away from him, scooting back and regrouping in the middle of the room.

"Pentagram tat, you sorry son of a bitch," Dean breathed, watching it recoil and billow in confusion.

Then it was gone, out through the broken door frame and into the sunny parking lot.

Dean let out a long breath, sagging slightly. He looked down at Moon under him and shifted off quickly.

"Moon!" he urged, reaching for her arm to turn her over. "You got rid of him!"

Sam helped Sunny up slowly, squeezing her arms. "You ok?" he dared.

Sunny was shaking. "I - I don't think so, no," she trembled. Sam put his arms around her and she grabbed onto him gratefully. He looked over at his brother.

"Moon, come on," Dean said firmly, starting to turn her onto her back. He halted abruptly, gasping in a way that made Sunny look too.

"No!" she cried. She let go of Sam, trying to run over. But Sam pulled on her, holding her tightly. "Moon!" she wailed. "Pukkeesis!"

Moon, a firm, confident set to her beautiful face, lay on her back on the carpet, Dean's hand to her arm. Two slivers of glass from the window protruded from her chest, buried deeper than was treatable, even to the elder Winchester's unqualified eye. Her breathing was slow, her face sheened with sweat. She opened an eye.

"Dean," she smiled, relieved enough to open her other eye too.

"Aw no--" Dean managed. She put a hand up slowly, aiming for his arm. She missed. He leaned over her on his knees, grabbing her up in angry arms and holding her steady.

"Dean," she whispered, dragging in a painful breath.

"Ssshh," he interrupted, lifting a hand and pushing her hair from her face hurriedly, looking into her dark eyes with barely-concealed desperation. "Just keep still. You'll be ok," he whispered.

"No… I won't," she swallowed. He moved a leg to prop it up behind her, making her more comfortable.

"Shut up. You'll be ok," he willed, shifting to put his hand to her back too, holding her up. She gripped his arm, but he could feel her strength ebbing. "You got him. He's gone."

"He'll come back," she whispered. "They always do."

"Stop talking." He looked over her back and lifted his hand to check it, knowing it was covered in her blood already.

"I have… I have to go now," she whispered in a small, cheerful voice. "It's been fun."

"Don't you go anywhere!" Dean said angrily. "Don't go."

"Think it's… already decided. But… thank you. I've never… never played with… with a _Shupshe_ before. My grandmother… grandmother will be… so happy when I… see her…" Her eyes sank closed.

"Moon!" he begged, knowing his hands were squeezing into blood-soaked clothes. "Moon! Open your eyes, come on," he begged. "Stay here with me. Please!"

"_Shupshe_," she rasped, her breath catching in her throat. "You asked me…" She relaxed slightly, but her eyes opened.

"Moon! Pukkeesis! C'mon," he interrupted, anguished. "Don't leave me here like this, huh? Who am I gonna watch crappy movies with?"

"You asked me… I said… over my dead body… And here we are. A _Shupshe_ is a… it's a…" She rasped and coughed weakly.

"Stop talking. Just hold on. C'mon, you'll be ok. I got you," he whispered, already feeling her relaxing in his arms. "I got you."

"It's a… a cougar," she smiled. "A cougar spirit that makes…"

She let out a long, relieved breath.

She did not pull in a new one.

"Moon?" he asked, his voice broken, his eyes full. "Moon, come on. I got you. I _got_ you," he strained. He swallowed the huge lump in his throat making it hard to speak. He lifted his hand from her back, slick with blood, and felt at her pulse.

It was weak. Then there was nothing.

He had no idea how long he stared at her in dumb shock. He had no idea how long he waited for her eyes to move and search for his.

Eventually he realised there were things aside from her pale face. He shook himself and moved his hand up. He gently closed her once-sparkling eyes, the ones that had seen so much and told so little. He dashed a hand against his eye cautiously, then looked at the pieces of glass in her chest. He grabbed the first one and ignored the way it sliced at his fingers. He grunted with effort, sliding it free and tossing it to the carpet carelessly. The second piece went the same way, blood from his fingers coating the shard.

He put his hand back to her shoulder blade, pulling her up again and letting his head fall to rest against hers gently.

"I got you," he whispered.

Sam felt Sunny shaking against him, her sobbing the only sound in the room. He felt his own eyes stinging with tears as he watched his brother, holding Moon up with him, rocking them slightly. He shifted his hold on Sunny, pressing her face into his neck securely, leaning his chin against her hair. He closed his eyes, anguished.

_How did it come to this? Why these two girls? Why us?_

He opened his eyes to look around the room. He took in the smashed door, the broken furniture, the glass and water over everything. He made himself stop feeling and instead saw the room for what it was: a 911 call waiting to happen.

"Dean," he called.

His brother didn't hear him. He simply held onto Moon, the pair of them rocking backwards and forwards slowly, a tiny vehement whisper escaping him over and over: "_I got you_."

"Dean! We have to go," Sam tried again.

Sunny looked up at him and he met her gaze.

"We can't stay here," he pointed out. "We'll take her too," he added. "But we have to get out of here."

She nodded and he looked over at his brother again.

"Dean! The police will be on their way - the motel owner could be coming with a shotgun from all this noise. Come on - we gotta go. _Now_."

Dean opened his eyes, dragging in a deep breath. He managed to stop himself rocking them both, then looked at her vacant, still face. His eyes, full of dark green sorrow and regret, stared at her, taking it all in slowly. They began to change, and by the time Sam had crossed the carpet toward him, they were instead full of a powerful rage and the promise of vengeance.

Sam put his hand on his shoulder. "Come on, man," he said gently. "We'll take her too."

Dean nodded, but he couldn't take his eyes from her face. He lifted his hand from her back, sliding it up her arm gently, willing it to point at him and joke about having made him tear-up and beg like a girl.

But it didn't.

He let it go slowly, swallowing and lifting his hand to use the back of it. He wiped his forehead with it slowly, then pushed it against his mouth, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah. Ok," he said clearly.

Sam patted his shoulder as Sunny broke from her shocked stance and hurried over. She fell to her knees next to her sister, a hand tight over her mouth to stop any noise. She put her other hand out slowly, putting it to her baby sister's temple gently.

She teased the hair away and down, her eyes flooding over her face and hand as she stared.

Sam wiped at his face quickly, swallowing. He cleared his throat and sniffed. "Can we get to your place?" he asked Sunny quietly.

She nodded once, then sat back slowly, withdrawing her hand. She fought with herself for a long moment.

"Of course," she said stiffly, her eyes locked on her sister. "You think I'd want her to go anywhere else?"

Sam nodded, and she put a hand out to him. He shuffled over and took it firmly, helping her up. She stared at her sister but grabbed onto him desperately. He held onto her, turning her slowly and walking her away from his brother.

Dean was still staring at Moon's face. He let his hand drop and straightened his back. He put his hand to her shoulder blade again, shifting to get to his feet and bring her with him.

Something jumped under his hand. He paused, spooked as to what she could have in a pocket or part of her clothing. It jumped again, and he recognised it as a muscle spasm. Just a spasm.

He shook his head, blinking damp eyes and shifting to move.

Her hand opened slowly, and he stared as the fingers curled to close again.

"Whut the--?" he dared, already kicking himself for having the childish hope.

He watched the fingers most definitely curl and then the hand lifted. It moved up through the air by itself, grabbing onto his arm and squeezing.

"Are you _seein'_ this?" Dean demanded of the room suddenly, his voice rough and stunned.

Sam turned quickly and stared, as did Sunny.

Moon's head, dangling slightly on her neck, began to lift. It moved up and took its own weight from Dean's hand, leaning up. Her hand grabbed ever more strongly and he could only watch, speechless, as her eyes opened.

She found his face and sucked in a faltering breath, watching his expression range from shock to plain fear.

"Dean," she whispered, smiling slightly. "Did I die?"

"Yeah!" he blurted, eyes wide in abject disbelief and confusion.

"Awww shit," she sighed, shifting to lie more comfortably in his arms. "I _hate_ it when that happens."

.


	6. SIX: November Rain

**SIX:**

**November Rain**

**.**

**

* * *

  
**

"Moon?" Sunny trembled. She slipped Sam's hold and ran over, tumbling to her knees and banging into Dean's shoulder. To say he noticed would have been to imply he knew of a world outside of Moon's weak smile.

"Hey," Moon managed on a very fragile breath.

Sam's face appeared round Sunny's shoulder and Moon shifted her gaze to him.

"Not you," she whispered. Sam's eyebrows scrambled up and hid under his fringe neatly. Moon smiled at her older sister. "Sorry. Should have said. But not you," she managed guiltily.

"Moon - we have to get you to a hospital," Sam interrupted, already climbing to his feet and whipping out his phone.

"No," she mouthed, then looked up at Dean. She smiled, a tear escaping one eye. "I'm sorry," she offered. "I really don't want to do this… But… I'm sorry."

He grinned, sniffing slightly. "For not dying? I'll let you off," he replied, his voice strained. She shook her head once.

"No. For this."

She put her hand up to his face, smoothing it over the skin gently and letting her eyes close. Sunny watched, fearing the worst.

"Moon?" Dean dared, watching her face go slack. Then a strange, tickling sensation began in her fingers against his skin. He felt a muscle jump under his eye, knew the weird sliding feeling was making the skin crawl all across his shoulders. "What are you do--"

He jerked suddenly, sucking in a desperate breath. Sunny gasped and leapt back from them. Dean fought to breathe as Sam hurried over, grabbing Sunny's arms and pulling her upright.

"Dean!" Sam called in fear, watching his older brother's face turn a worrying shade of red. His eyes began to bulge, his breath forced out of him by an unseen force. He clutched at Moon with seemingly base instinct, nothing more. He struggled to drag in air, his eyes seeing nothing. The tendons in his neck stood out, his pained gasping making Sam advance on him, ready to pull him from the girl.

Then Dean stopped. He stopped fighting for breath. He stopped grasping at the once-dead girl in his arms.

He simply stopped.

He toppled backwards onto the carpet with a phenomenal _thump_. Sunny jumped in fear. Her eyes swept over to watch her sister fall to the carpet with much more grace.

But then Moon sat up slowly, wiping her forehead wearily and sniffing.

Sam let go of Sunny and veered round her, landing on his knees next to his brother. He grabbed at his shirt and hauled his shoulders off the floor.

"Dean! Hey! Dean!" he shouted, fear adding to his volume.

Dean's face was empty, his eyes closed. There was no breathing, no flinching from Sam's shouting into his face. Nothing.

Moon tried to get up but collapsed to her hands and knees. She crawled over to them.

"What did you _do_ to him?" Sam raged, shaking his brother desperately. He grabbed his chin and pulled his face round in an effort to see more clearly.

But Moon knocked his hand aside smoothly and simply slapped at Dean's face.

His eyes sprang open and he gasped in a breath, blinking as if the room were too bright.

"He'll be fine," she managed, sitting back and slumping. Sunny grabbed her and hugged her tightly.

Dean put a hazy hand up to Sam's front, pushing slightly. "'M ok, man," he slurred. "Get offa me."

Sam let go with one hand but kept a good hold on his shirt with the other. "Dean. Dean!" he repeated, noticing his brother's eyes close again.

"Another half an hour, Dad," he mumbled. Then he fell straight over backwards, Sam's strength or no.

Sam sat back, his arm on his knee, and watched his brother breathe quite peacefully. He put a slow hand down, finding his brother's pulse and waiting. He felt it strong but relaxed, and he pulled his hand back, letting out a long sigh of relief. He opened Dean's eye suddenly, looking in. Then he nodded and let himself believe his brother was actually simply sleeping.

He looked over at the girls, then back at Dean. He straightened his back and directed a rather damning stare at the younger sister.

She was staring at Dean, her eyes full, her face a study in fear and regret. Sam looked back at his brother, leaning over him and letting his fears calm, hearing the familiar sound of a tiny snore from him. He sat back again and wiped his hands over his face, blowing out a huge sigh.

"I can explain," Moon offered shakily. She looked as though, should her sister let go of her, she'd topple over and sleep too. Or worse.

"After we get out of here," Sam decided, motioning to Sunny. She began to stand, helping her sister and keeping her tight against her.

Sam gazed down at his brother, then ran a weary hand through his hair. He rested his head in his hand, hearing the snore and letting it reassure him. He snorted with grim amusement, shaking his head.

"Come on then, _Shupshe_," he sighed to himself, reaching over and grabbing his shirt again.

.

* * *

.

Sam squeezed the wheel on the Impala with his right hand, his other elbow against the window as a thousand thoughts tumbled through his head. The car rumbled along in the sunshine, silence blanketing the occupants, daring anyone to break it.

Sunny, in the passenger seat, twisted round slowly and put her hands on the vinyl, watching her sister fearfully. She appeared quite comfortable, slumped into the corner of the seat, her head resting against the glass, ostensibly watching the bright shiny view go by.

Sunny waited, but although Moon must have known she was being watched, she didn't look up. Sunny sniffed, looking along the seat to her sister's right. Even after the strange things she'd seen, the horrific morning she'd had, she couldn't help feeling that she should smile at the sight that greeted her.

Dean's head was in Moon's lap, her sister's hand resting gently in his hair. As soon as Sam had shoved the sleeping elder Winchester in the back seat he had shifted and sought out the most comfortable position, one that apparently meant he had to splay out across the entire seat and Moon's knee as if he'd been dropped from a great height. As it was, he was fast asleep and completely at ease, enjoying a tiny snore that reminded Sunny of a vengeful tom cat her grandmother has once taken in. All this, and the way he had automatically taken liberty of someone he trusted as much as he dared trust anyone, only solidified her faith in the name Moon had given him.

She sniffed, relief he was apparently unharmed tinged with fear as she slid her eyes over to her sister again. Then she gave up, turning back round in the seat and wiping her face with both hands slowly. She swallowed, controlling her confusion, and looked over at Sam.

He didn't appear to have moved in a while, save tiny adjustments to the steering wheel, and the way he rubbed a finger across his lip in thought.

"Sam? Where are we going?" Sunny dared quietly.

He turned his head and looked at her briefly. "Somewhere safe," he allowed, making his face show more confidence than he felt.

"You… you know what that thing was, don't you?"

"Yeah. It was a demon," he said tightly. "We've seen them before."

Moon looked up from the rear seat, watching her sister digest this. "These two are hunters, Sunny," she put in quietly. "Have been for as long as they can remember. They know what they're doing."

"What?" Sunny spluttered. "Hunters? Really?"

"Yeah, really," Sam allowed with a small smile.

"Then…" Sunny sat back, watching her fingers fiddle with her bag.

"How's he doing?" Sam asked of the rear view mirror.

Moon looked down at Dean's head in her lap. She stroked the fine hair around his ear gently, spreading her fingers against his scalp and closing her eyes. It was quiet for a long second, and Sam shifted nervously in his seat.

"He'll be ok. He's just drained," she whispered, opening her eyes again.

"Literally?" Sam asked sharply.

"No, Sam. I just… took something I needed. He'll need a rest, but when he wakes up he'll be right as rain," she allowed.

"Yeah," Sunny said, sounding very loud and very put out, "What was all that about, Pukkessis? Care to explain how you died and then came back to life? And what the hell were you doing with that poor _Shupshe_'s spirit!"

Moon looked back down at Dean, stroking his hair softly. She cleared her throat, looking up and out of the window.

"Can we do this later?" she managed.

Sam spared Sunny a glance, then put his eyes back to the rear view mirror, and the younger sister. "How do _you_ feel?"

Moon looked over at him slowly. "Like… I shouldn't have done it. Like… I nearly killed him. Like… like this is the worst day of my life because it's found me," she shrugged, trying to hide everything she was feeling.

But Sam noticed the tremor in her voice and saw only too well the water in her eyes.

"You said Dean's going to be fine. Let's just calm down until we reach where we're going," he said confidently.

Moon nodded gratefully, looking back out of the window. Sunny stared at him, then sat round in the seat and folded her arms resolutely.

Sam took a deep breath, held it for a long moment, then let it all out wearily. Silence swept over everything again, save the purring of the engine, almost on the same note as her favourite driver's quiet snore from the back seat.

.

* * *

.

He rumbled the car into the yard slowly, killing the engine and looking at Sunny.

"This is safe?" she was observing, taking a careful look around her. "Looks like a breaker's yard."

"It is. The uncle, the one who wanted the bark dust for painting? This is his place," he said, gesturing to the house with his chin.

Sunny turned and looked, then edged back round to look at Sam. "The uncle that's not really a painter? The uncle that's not really your uncle?" she guessed.

"Yeah," he said uneasily. "Look, this is the safest place I know while Dean's out of it." He opened his door and climbed out, going to the rear door and wanging it open. He looked at Moon apologetically. "Ah… Can I wake him?"

She avoided his gaze, instead sliding a hand over Dean's temple slowly. She closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, she caught Sunny staring at her.

_I never wanted you to look at me like that_, she thought before she could stop it. She cleared her throat. "Not really. He needs rest."

"Ok then," Sam sighed. He turned and disappeared toward the house. Moon bit her lip and then caught a light slap in the arm from Sunny.

"Just what the hell is going on here?" she whispered hoarsely at her younger sister. Moon swallowed.

"I… I didn't know," she said lamely. "Really, I didn't. I just… I had to--"

"You'd better start talking once we get inside, Pukkeesis," she threatened, her face dark.

Moon let her head bow, closing her eyes. Sunny turned round resolutely to fold her arms. Moon eyed her sister's actions and decided the outside world was too much. She swallowed and looked down, spreading her fingers against Dean's head gently. She took a deep breath and concentrated on tracing his thoughts and blending in with what she found.

But what she found was not a happy place.

It was a vast wasteland, an ugly plain of scrubland made of doubt and worry. _Where is the self-worth that should be lighting this place up?_

Her thoughts echoed round the empty vista and triggered something. Storm clouds gathered and she heard them approaching without mercy. Something had angered him, something had poked at the wounded animal and it was ready to lash out.

_It's me! It's only me! You know me! I'm not here to hurt you! Why would you think that?_

She felt the wind buffet and push at her. It was a raging swirl of blacks and purples; waves of anger and regret, hurt and a raging refusal to accept the unfairness with which it coped on a daily basis. It enveloped her and she stared into the fray.

_This is the only way you know. You're waiting for someone to see that._

She stretched herself out and her hands reached into the clouds around her. Her touch against the black made it pause and it shimmered, a tiny skein of silver wending its way through. The colours began to change; now the blacks were infiltrated with grey and silver, and the clouds were no longer buffeting but sliding past and around her.

But there were still large, angry shapes of roiling black. They began to pull back from the throng of more relaxed colours, forever retreating with sudden suspicion. As she moved through the churning waves, smoothing her brighter colours toward them, the darkest swirls continued to pull back. She followed, determined to find every last piece of black and eradicate it.

But the dark swirls refused to let her touch them. They shunned her questing touch, resisted the temptation to let something soothe or help them. They pulled back hastily, avoiding her with desperation. Then suddenly they stopped. They quickly formed a sphere, a hard, impenetrable wall of fear that made her pause.

_He's in there. I can get to him. I can try to see what's causing all this. I can help him. No-one should be this black on the inside._

She put a hand out to the sphere. It recoiled as if stung, fighting her attempt at help.

_This is the last wall? This is all you have left? What have they **done** to you?_ She sensed an overwhelming force, something horribly powerful yet reined in behind the walls of the sphere. She suddenly realised it wasn't a wall to keep her out, but to keep something terrible _in_.

She pulled her hand back quickly.

The sphere bobbed back from her and they stared at each other. She took a step back, finding the clouds behind her were sliding around her. They weren't exactly cheerful, but they were as contented as they ever got. The smooth twisting and turning as they slid about her, the occasional feel of them encountering her arm or shoulder made her smile, and she turned to watch them. She put her hand out suddenly and caught at the back of one streak of cloud, stroking her hand down the length of it as it twisted and sped up, as if to be out of her reach.

But she had caught the tiny sliver of pleasure, the brief flash of enjoyment as her hand had trailed all the way down the bristling piece of his sub-conscious.

_Just like Grandma's ginger tom_, she grinned to herself, watching the streak fold round and head back to her. She put her hand out again, reaching out and touching at it, stroking down it and making it feel she was only there to help, only there to understand.

The car door opened suddenly and she jumped. Her eyes crashed open and her hand fell away from Dean's head. She gasped in air, trying to adjust to the interior of the car again. She heard a voice and turned her head right to find an older man peering at her in thought.

"Ah… hey," she gulped. She looked down at Dean quickly, then back up at him.

"Yep," he said quickly, then his head disappeared from the car. She noticed Sunny was gone from the front seat and swallowed, leaning her head toward the open door.

"--And he's still out like a light," Sam was saying.

"He's cute when he's asleep - mostly cos his mouth ain't going like a game show host," the man was saying back. Sam smiled, then motioned to the car door. He noticed Moon was watching him.

"So you're not throwing us out?" he asked of the other man.

"Boy, do I look like I'd throw these two young ladies back in a car with you two? I ain't even met 'em proper yet and you're accusing me of wanting the worst for 'em," the man grumped. He bent and looked through the door to Moon again. "You can come with me," he said with a decidedly more pleasant expression. "You'll be safe here for a while." His eyes swivelled down to look at Dean. "Sam, you can heft your brother in. I ain't putting my back out."

"Yes, Bobby," Sam smiled.

.

* * *

.

Bobby handed a mug of coffee to each of the girls, going back to the counter and bringing back two more. He passed one to Sam, next to Sunny on the sofa, before moving to an armchair and sitting slowly. He sat on the edge, his elbows on his knees, watching Moon stare into her drink as if it might attack her.

"So," he said quietly. "Sam tells me you died this morning."

Moon looked up at him. "Yeah," she admitted uneasily.

"And then you woke up again."

"Yeah."

"And then… you did something to Dean, and now you're ok again."

"Yeah."

"You want to explain how?" he asked quietly. He noticed one of Sunny's hands drop from her mug and find Sam's, squeezing his fingers silently. He paused, blinked, and then looked back at Moon. She was staring into her coffee, looking very far away.

"Grandma," she said quietly. "It all started with Grandma." She turned her head and looked at her sister across the room. "You remember when I was like nine, and I fell out of that tree?"

"Yeah," Sunny said slowly. "You nearly died."

"I _did_ die," Moon admitted. She waited, but the room stayed silent, save the ticking of some great unseen clock somewhere close by. Moon took a deep breath. "Grandma - she did something, I don't know what. But I was ok again, and… She said she'd twinned us. We were like that until she died," she said quietly.

Sam glanced at Sunny, realised she was staring at her coffee - perhaps in horror, perhaps in disbelief. He couldn't be sure. But her eyes glistened and she sniffed. Sam leaned and took her coffee from her before she simply dropped it, and she leaned on him heavily. He put both their drinks on the table next to them and put an arm round her warmly, unsurprised to feel her as tense as a piano wire.

Bobby took all this in, then looked back at Moon and her guilty eyes. "So… You died and she did something to bring you back?"

"No-one can come back to life," Sunny pleaded suddenly, looking up at Bobby quickly. She cast a disbelieving look at her younger sister. "You just _thought_ you were dead - it must have been like a near-death exp--"

"No, it wasn't," Moon whispered, and Sam swallowed at the sight of her quiet eyes and haunted expression. He squirmed slightly in his seat, Bobby sitting back slightly in his.

"Ok, let's say for argument's sake that you really were dead," Sam said slowly, deliberately not looking at Bobby. "What did your grandmother do to get you back? This could be very important."

"I don't know - all I know is… She said nothing happens for free. She always said that you get _nothing_ for free… She said I would have to wait for the spirit-creature that would put everything straight again."

Sam and Bobby exchanged a glance.

"So basically she stole energy or life force or whatever from something pretty bad-ass and used it to bring you back to life. Then she warned you to watch out for it coming calling." Bobby paused, thinking. "She ever mention what it might be? Did she mention a time limit?"

"Time limit?" Moon asked, confused. "No. What time limit?"

"Say… ten years?" Sam asked innocently. "How old are you now?"

Moon appeared completely thrown by the question. "Twenty," she admitted.

Bobby let out a small 'hmm', sitting back in his seat properly. He looked at Sam. "Eleven years already," he observed quietly.

_Not a demon contract, then. Unless she got more than ten years on it_, Sam nodded, and the room went quiet. "So… This morning. You died. How did you make yourself wake up again?"

"I… I don't know. I really don't know. I mean, one minute I'm wishing I'd never met your brother and then he wouldn't be begging me to stay alive--"

"Dean was begging a girl for something? Wish I'd been there to see that," Bobby quipped, and he and Sam shared an amused glance.

"And the next minute I'm back but feeling really… I mean, really kinda weak. And I knew what I had to do to get better," Moon admitted guiltily.

"So that's what you did to Dean? Borrowed a bit of whatever it was you needed?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," she whispered, sniffing.

"Moon, you should have used _me_," Sunny said angrily. "You had no right!"

"I had _every_ right!" Moon shot back, suddenly angry. "Me and him are the same, we're both living on borrowed time and we shouldn't even be here. We both should have stayed dead the first time!"

Sam stiffened and sat up quickly, dislodging Sunny against him. She watched him, surprised.

"Now you explain just how the hell you know that!" he shouted.

Bobby blinked and looked at Moon. She was staring at him in fright.

"You were gonna say '_what's dead should stay dead_', right? Right? Where have you heard that, Moon? _Where_?" he demanded.

"Sam!" Bobby chided quickly. The younger Winchester looked at him, and Bobby was surprised to see a mixture of shame and fear on his anguished face. Bobby opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.

Sunny looked over and watched her sister bite her lip, steadying her nerves. She looked up and met Sam's desperate gaze.

"Dean's never said it," she admitted roughly, sniffing and dashing a hand against her eye to dry it. "But he's been thinking it for a long time." She let her head drop and kept her face down, unable to meet Sam's searing stare so soon.

Sam could not stop glaring at her, even though Bobby looked daggers at him deliberately.

"Oh, he's mentioned it to me alright," Sam allowed tightly. "And yeah, if you'd killed him with that little stunt you pulled, he would have considered it an even trade."

"Trade for what?" Sunny asked on a whisper.

Sam looked at Moon, then at Sunny. He just let his head drop as he shook it. "We need to work out what to do next," he sighed.

"Well you girls look like you need more'n just coffee in them cups," Bobby said awkwardly, getting to his feet. "Sam, you gotta think about this demon that's apparently wanting you and your brother's entrails. I'll go check on Sleeping Beauty," he said gruffly.

He put down his coffee and disappeared from the room.

Sam looked at Sunny and she returned his gaze, looking apologetic. They heard a slight noise and looked over, finding Moon had set down her coffee to put her head in her hands. Sunny squeezed Sam's knee, then got up and walked over to her. She crouched in front of her and put her hand out to her elbow.

Moon looked up and Sunny was surprised to see tears covering her face. She tutted in anguish and pushed her over to sit on the chair next to her. She pulled her into a hug and 'shush'ed her gently, closing her eyes.

Sam got up slowly, wandering into the kitchen and putting his hands deep in his pockets. He turned as he heard the quiet close of a door and Bobby's weary huff advertise his approach.

"That boy could sleep for a gold medal," the older man observed, but something about his tone made Sam believe there was a modicum of fondness buried deep within the disapproval.

"Yeah," he muttered. Bobby didn't look at him, but simply went to a cupboard under the sink and pulled out a large bottle. He turned and handed it to him.

"Here. Make sure the girls get some of that," he said wisely. Sam scanned the label, stopping abruptly as he found the word 'whisky'. He turned on his heel and Bobby watched him leave the kitchen.

He pulled off his cap, ran a hand over his head, and flicked it back on again. Then he shook his head and followed the young man.

.


	7. SEVEN: Spoilin' For A Fight

**SEVEN**

**Spoilin' For A Fight**

**.**

**

* * *

  
**

Dean felt something against his face. It was warm and perhaps smelled faintly of some permutation of Swarfega he couldn't quite place. He was aware of something heavy pushing at his brain, something weighing on his soul, and realised he couldn't quite recall how he had come to fall asleep.

He decided he should get a look at where he was. He opened his eyes slowly, finding his head buried face-down in a large pillow. He blinked at it and pushed himself onto his back, looking round a good-sized room. There was a dresser near the bed he was in, a wardrobe, a chair littered with books, clothes and a small dented metal flask that could only contain--

"Holy water," he grunted, pulling a hand up from underneath the thick covers that were trying to weigh him down. He brought it to the top of the duvet, pushing it out of his way to sit up. He looked down at the bed, unable to understand why he was in some strange bedroom - and bed - with his jeans and t-shirt still on his person. And three fingers of his right hand in bright white bandages.

He stared at his hand and suddenly it all came back. He saw his fingers grab at the glass and yank it from her dead body, saw her lying lifeless in his arms.

And then she had woken up.

He blew out a sigh, using the heel of his hand to rub at his eye soundly. He hissed as something stung under the bandages. He looked around again, flinging the duvet back to find his socks had made themselves scarce.

"And this don't look like the kinda place two sisters would live in," he mumbled to himself.

He swung his feet out of bed and got up, stretching and patting at himself, finding everything present and correct. He located the door, scrubbed both hands through his no-doubt amusingly spiked hair, and headed for it.

He put a hand on the doorknob, opening it cautiously and looking out. He saw a corridor, made of the same wood that made up the room he was in. It all looked strangely familiar, but as if he were seeing it from the inside out. As he paused to try and ascertain just where he was, he heard voices.

They sounded female. He had a sudden flash of memory: a girl, a cinema, popcorn. He swallowed and opened the door properly, walking out and finding the corridor suddenly slide into intimately-known territory.

_Bobby's place_, he realised, looking around, confused. _How did we get to Bobby's place?_

He tried to think, tried to remember just what he'd been doing before he fell asleep. It was mushed together in grey, half-flickering images of a pair of girls, Sam with a bath towel in his hand, laughing at him… and then chainsaws and flying books that bit people.

_No wait, that's a movie,_ he told himself.

He shook his head and turned for the sound of voices, getting to the door that obscured everyone. He wanged it open and stood in the frame, staring as everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours came crashing back into sharp focus.

Bobby, Sam, Moon and Sunny looked up, the girls jumping slightly in surprise.

"Dean!" Moon grinned, leaping off the sofa and running to him.

She threw her arms round him and hugged with all her strength. The smell of her, the way she grabbed onto him, caused a jumble of images to fly into his head and he sorted through them as quickly as he could. He looked at Sam, finding a very familiar look of relief on his face. He moved on to Bobby, noticing him simply looking a little grumpy. But that in itself was nothing new and actually went a long way to assuaging much of Dean's unease.

"Ah… Ain't she supposed to be dead?" he managed, lifting a hand to point at the back of the girl hanging off him in relief.

"Yeah," Sam nodded seriously.

"How are _you_ doing?" Bobby asked slowly, his eyes slightly narrowed as if he expected the elder Winchester to go down like Mr Slinky at any second.

But Dean was too busy sorting through mental images of Moon dying in his arms to notice. He pushed them all aside. "Like I've been asleep for a year," he admitted.

He put his arms round Moon and hugged, lifting her off her feet slightly. She appeared to just sigh in some great deluge of released tension and let herself be set down again. He put his hands to her arms, pushing her back gently. She looked up at him, concerned.

"You sure you're ok?" Sam asked, and Dean looked over at him. Sam's face was edgy, a familiar anguished scowl all over it.

"Sure?" Moon asked.

Dean looked around the room and everyone staring at him. It made his skin crawl just slightly. "Why? How do I look?" he dared.

"Good. I almost didn't recognise you with your clothes on," Moon winked, and he let himself grin. He missed Sam's shocked face and the way he then looked at Sunny. She gazed back at Sam, eyes wide in disbelief.

"You said he'd never--" she began accusingly.

"I got a few questions though," Dean was saying carefully. Moon let her head drop, pushing herself away and turning from him. He watched her walk through a smaller door and heard cups and utensils.

"Probably exactly the ones we've been talking about while you've been flat on your back," Sam said, a little too politely. Dean looked over at him, letting his hands fall into his deep jeans pockets. He looked back at the three of them, trying to phrase things.

"The biggest one right now is how come we're at Bobby's?" he asked slowly.

Sam lifted a hand apologetically. "I brought us here."

"Right," he nodded uneasily. "And… why was I asleep in your best guest room?" he asked, turning his confused eyes on Bobby.

"Cos even if you'd been dead, you weren't getting _my_ room," he said pointedly. "The young miss there said not to wake you. She seemed to know what she was talking about, so we did as she said."

Dean nodded to himself, pouting slightly as he looked at his bare feet. "Just a few more," he said professionally. "How come she ain't dead? How come _I'm_ not dead?"

"What do you mean?" Sunny asked, confused.

"Well last I saw of her - I think - she was… not exactly running for Office. And then… then it all got buckets 'o crazy and then… then I don't really remember. Except something hurt ma head," he said uncomfortably, lifting his bandaged hand to rub at the back of it.

Sam cleared his throat slowly, looking at Bobby. Sunny kept her head down.

"She died. That's true. Then she… came back to life," Sam supplied quietly.

Dean stopped rubbing and let his hand drop slowly. He stared at the carpet, but Bobby recognised the signs of large cogs whirling at top speed somewhere deep inside his head. "Wait - there was a demon, and… Sam got him with water," he muttered, thinking. Then he looked back over at the three watching him. "She got rid of the demon dude, right? How'd she do that?"

"To be honest, we don't know," Bobby said with a small sigh. "You'd better ask her yourself. Right now she got more secrets than even you two boys put together."

Dean frowned at him, then walked past the sofa and went through the smaller door to the room beyond.

He found himself in a kitchen, Moon in the act of making a large jug of coffee.

"How'd you do it?" he asked simply.

"Get rid of 'the demon dude'?" she asked knowingly. "You white Kansas people aren't the only ones with holy words, _Shupshe_," she teased, if a little stiffly.

"And… the not dying thing?"

"You were… in the right place at the right time," she admitted, biting her lip. "I'm sorry. I stole from you, and I'm sorry," she managed, nearly a whisper, keeping her back to him. It was silent for a moment, the sounds of Bobby and Sam talking flooding through from the front room.

"And after?" Dean prompted.

"After what?" she asked, looking up at him, confused.

He looked over at the door to the kitchen, heard Sunny joining the discussion, and looked back at Moon. He walked over and stood much closer to her than made her comfortable.

"After. When I was asleep. How did you… Why did you… You were… ah… in my head, right?" he asked quietly.

"Kinda," she admitted, but she didn't look at him. He put a hand out to her arm, squeezing slightly. She raised her head slowly, relieved to see he didn't appear angry, but more than a little confused.

"Why?" he dared.

"I… I didn't want you to be alone. And when I got in there, you were all… I just wanted to help," she whispered, unable to meet his eyes. It was silent for a long moment.

"Thanks," he said gently, and she closed her eyes in relief.

"For what?"

"For stopping. For not opening the last one."

"I didn't dare," she admitted, then opened her eyes and looked up at him. "I don't know what's in there, and something tells me the world would be a much better place if no-one ever finds out. It's a _Shupshe_ thing, and I'm not brave enough to mess with that," she added in a stronger voice, recovering her bravado.

He smiled, shaking his head slightly. "You didn't have to help me. You could have left me. I think you're brave enough."

"But I was…" She paused, swallowing a faltering breath, he noticed. "I was… I felt horrible cos I'd just… I'd just taken from you and I didn't even ask."

"Taken what?" he asked, his face twisted in complete and utter bafflement.

"A few years off your life," she admitted. He stared at her for a long moment, then he snorted in amusement. She watched, astounded, as he let go of her arm and started laughing loudly enough to stop the occupants of the front room from talking. "Stop that!" she snapped crossly.

He waved a hand at her, managing to control himself. "If you knew what I knew, you'd laugh too," he chuckled. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Well it must be hilarious," she stated flatly.

He wiped a hand over his nose, thinking. "Look… what you did… I just gotta say, it doesn't matter."

"Of course it does! I've just shortened your life!" she cried angrily.

Dean shook his head, smiling in a way that made Moon feel she really should re-think her views on what his priorities could be. He lifted his head and looked at her.

"Trust me. You have not shortened my life. It's short enough as it is," he said confidently.

"Do I want to know what that means?" she dared.

He gave his best, cheekiest smile but Moon didn't know whether to believe it or not. "No. You want to make me that coffee, though," he said, interrupting her thoughts.

She looked around the kitchen to avoid his pleasant smile, especially hard to take after her actions earlier in the day. "Get that mug," she instructed.

"Yes ma'am," he said innocently, going over and picking up the ceramic cup. He watched his bandaged fingers on the surface as he brought it back over. "Ah… One more question…"

She turned and took the mug from him, then pulled at the neck line of her t-shirt, yanking it wide open. He jumped and averted his gaze quickly, then heard her suppressing sounds of a giggle. He looked back at her and she pointed to the skin a tiny way from her heart, now exposed.

"No glass, Dean. No scar. Nothing."

"Oh," he said in a small voice.

She let go of the t-shirt. "I can't believe you were stupid enough to grab the glass with your bare hand. I'm surprised it didn't take your fingers right off, idiot."

"Oh."

She turned with a smile infinitely more relaxed, lifting the coffee pot and filling the mug generously. "There," she said, turning back to him. "Get that down you. All we have to figure out now is how to find this demon thing again before he finds us."

"You think he's here for you?" Sam asked from the doorway. Dean cleared his throat, taking a step back from Moon to give the illusion of personal space.

Moon looked over. "Could be."

"No. He's here for us, Sam," Dean said suddenly, making his younger brother look over at him. "He said something about… A sister - a demon sister. And we killed her. Or _I_ killed her. Not really sure on that one."

"So how do we find out who he is?" Sam asked, lost.

"I think I can help you there," Moon said edgily. "I got his name."

"You did?" Sam asked, surprised.

"Uh-huh. He was very careless with his thoughts while Dean was making him so angry."

"You just couldn't resist, could you?" Sam sighed at his brother.

Dean shrugged. "He's a demon, man. That's what he's there for, to kick the crap out of and exorcise." He looked at Moon. "If we got his name, we can summon him right to us and then poke him with a holy stick till he tells us a few things."

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like what he wants with us, and what he knows about what's coming for you. Then we could stop it."

"Nah… I don't think that's a good idea," she said nervously, waving her hands at both boys.

"What? Why?" Sam asked, confused.

"Cos he's going to be some big bad-ass spirit walker, or demi-god, or--"

"Well hey, me and Sam killed a coupla Pagan gods last Christmas," Dean sniffed. "Whoever this guy is, we could take him."

Moon looked at him. "You are joking," she stated flatly. Dean raised his eyebrows at her and she looked at Sam quickly. "He _is_ joking, right?"

"Ah… No," Sam smiled. "But we would need a little help from you on this one."

"Little help to do what?" Bobby asked, pushing into the kitchen past Sam's shoulder.

"Well if Moon can find us the demon dude's name, and we toast him, it's only fair we find out what's stalking her and toast him, too," Dean shrugged. "Game?" he asked Sam flippantly.

"Yeah, I'm game," he nodded.

"You boys ain't summoning it by yourselves," Bobby threatened, and they looked at him. He just blinked back at them. "Sam's the only one who can read, and Dean's the only one who can shoot straight."

The Winchesters exchanged a mutually indignant glance, but Bobby ignored them admirably. Instead he looked at Moon. "You and your sister might want to sit this one out."

"If you insist," she said edgily.

"_I_ do," Dean said, and she looked up at him.

"Well far be it for me to argue with the _Shupshe_," she teased suddenly, smiling as she picked up her coffee and disappeared from the kitchen.

Dean realised he was being watched by both Sam and Bobby. "Whut?" he asked innocently.

"Nothing," Sam managed, then spared Bobby a glance. "So how do we get started? That thing could be finding a new meat suit and zeroing in on us right now," he pointed out.

"We need my big book," Bobby grumped. "And the library."

"And coffee. Lots of coffee," Dean added firmly, lifting his cup and attacking it with enthusiasm.

.

* * *

.

Dean upended his duffle onto his adopted bed, rifling through slowly. He heard a noise and found Moon walking up behind him. She put her hand out and shoved a piece of paper at him.

"Whut's this?" he asked, taking it and looking it over. Moon pointed at it timidly.

"The name. The name I got when he was too busy shouting at you and pinning you to walls," she managed. He squinted at it, trying to read it, but it didn't appear to follow any normal phonic or spelling patterns he'd ever seen and he gave up. He flicked his gaze up to her, about to ask, but she was biting her lip and looking at something just past his left arm.

"Thanks," he said cheerfully. He cleared his throat. "You, ah… You'll be alright with your sister," he added firmly.

"Yeah," she said quietly, inspecting her feet.

"We'll find this demon dude, scare the living hell out of him, then start on your stalker - whatever he turns out to be. Piece of cake," he smiled.

She looked up at him slowly, and he realised she was trembling slightly. He opened his mouth but didn't actually have any idea of what to say.

"Uh… Can you, uh…" she began, then her voice failed her. He waited, his eyes darting round her to make sure no-one else could overhear the conversation. She swallowed and her gaze fixed on his amulet. "Can you be careful? And not die please?" she managed.

"I always aim for something around there," he admitted, and she conceded a tiny smile. It covered a small lip wobble very well. He put a hand to her arm. "Don't worry about us," he said confidently. "We've done this before."

"Yeah," she nodded, trying to sound convinced. "But shouldn't you tell Sam about you and me and--"

There was a knocking on the doorjamb and Sam's head appeared round it. "Bobby's all set, he wants--" he blurted. He stopped short. "Oh. Everything… ok?" he hazarded carefully.

"Yeah Sam, we're super. I'm coming," Dean said loudly, and Sam let his hand fall from the wood.

"Ok then," he said pointedly, turning on his heel and disappearing from the doorway quickly.

Dean waited until he was sure Sam was far enough away. Then he looked back down at Moon. "No, Sam can't know yet. Trust me, it's better this way."

She frowned at him. "You know," she said wisely, "the people you should never deceive are your family."

"Yeah. I get that a lot," he smiled politely.

"I'm not joking, Dean."

"Says the girl who completely forgot to mention the whole 'not able to die' thing to her sister?" he ventured. He watched her eyes fill up and his face scrunched in abrupt self-kickery. He squeezed his hand against her arm, making her look up at him. "Look, forget it," he said confidently. "It wasn't your fault to begin with."

"I've told myself that before. Hasn't helped so far," she said weakly.

"Well _I'm_ telling you - and this is something I know a lot about," he stated, and she blinked. "It wasn't your fault. Leave this to us three - we'll take care of your stalker."

She gave a weak smile, then put her arms up, grabbing him in a hug. He held onto her patiently, feeling her hands squeezing into his back, even as they shook slightly. She pressed her head into his neck.

"Be safe," she said firmly.

"Wait for me in the kitchen," he replied, and she pulled herself away, nodding. She checked her hand, closing it quickly and putting it in her pocket.

"Right."

"Right."

She turned and walked out quickly. Dean watched her go, shook his head, and turned back to his duffle on the bed. He picked out his favourite dented flask of holy water and secured it in his jeans pocket, turning for the door. He walked down the hallway and heard Sam and Bobby griping about something.

He walked in the door to the library, seeing them stacking things on the table by the fireplace.

"It wasn't exactly her choice, Sam," Bobby was protesting.

"All I'm saying is, how is this different from any of the people with Crossroads deals we've helped out?" Sam shot back angrily. "This is just the same."

"It weren't even a demon," Bobby put in. "For all we know, it coulda been some native American angel thing."

"You really believe an angel thing would bring a nine year old girl back to life, then threaten to come and take it all away again?" he argued.

"I believe she deserves to have her tracker burnt, is what I believe," Bobby snapped. "Just cos her grandmother used a bit of hoo-doo Potawatomi style don't mean she should be left to it."

"I didn't say we shouldn't help her, I'm just saying it's a little too close to home, if you see--"

"What's all this?" Dean asked loudly.

Sam stopped short, looking up at his brother in the doorway. "Nothing," he bit out.

Dean looked at Bobby, raising his hands in mystery.

"Sam's… thinking too much," Bobby groused, then looked back at his books quickly.

"Is he now," Dean accused slowly, wandering into the room, letting his hands push deep into his pockets. "And what are you thinking about, Sam?"

"Look, let's just find this demon and--"

"No Sam, I'm interested," Dean interrupted with fake politeness, lifting his titled chin slightly. "Come on, what's the problem?"

Sam glowered at him, his chin sticking out as he refused to answer his brother.

"She a little too normal for someone who's got this thing hanging over her?" Dean went on. "A little too psychic for your nerves? Or is it that once we barbecue this bastard and move onto whatever's getting at her, we'll be leaving, huh?" he asked suavely.

"Dean," Sam snapped.

"What is it? You think she had anything to do with whatever it was that brought her back?" he asked, his face polite, his tone rather too accusing for his younger brother's taste.

Bobby shifted his feet, determined to stay well back.

"That's just it, Dean!" Sam exploded, causing everyone else to blink in shock. "You're all gung-ho to help _her,_ rescue _her,_ save _her,_ kill _her_ problem, but what about _you_?"

"What _about_ me?" he asked, mystified.

"You're only doing this cos she's someone to save! You're only doing this cos she didn't make any deal to save herself, someone in her family did! And you feel guilty for her grandmother, and you're trying to make it all alright! Well it doesn't work like that, Dean!" he raged.

Dean spread his hands, smiling grimly in abject warning at his younger brother.

"Oh," he breathed dangerously, "we are so not having this conversation."

"_Yes_ we are!" Sam shouted. "I'm not six, Dean! I can see the parallels here! You want to clean up her grandmother's mistake in letting this thing come back for her, the granddaughter she saved. And you want to do it cos you know you're leaving _me_ in the shit when your Deal comes due! Well no-one's gonna come and clean up _your_ mistake, Dean! No-one's gonna come and make it alright again when _you're_ dead and gone!"

Dean crossed the carpet between him and his brother uncomfortably quickly. He seemed way more controlled than he should have been.

"Sam," he breathed, his jaw squared and raised, "this is not the time."

"Then _when_, Dean? Two minutes before midnight when they come for you? Why can't you let yourself be pissed off about this? Why can't you just admit that you wish you'd never made that deal in the first place!"

Dean took a step back and swung his fist round.

Bobby blinked, unable to follow everything that happened so fast. One moment Sam was towering over his brother, his face red with anger and volume. The next he was crashing into the carpet, Dean flexing his right hand as he stood over him.

"_That_ pissed off enough for you?" Dean growled at him.

Sam rolled from his side to his back, looking up at him. He made no attempt to nurse his throbbing jaw, exploding with pain and fire. Instead he stared up at him, and it was silent for a long minute.

"If I had to do it again, I'd _still_ make that deal," Dean continued, his voice an angry near-whisper. "Don't you _dare_ think I wouldn't! Just get over it."

Sam raised a slow hand, pressing it to his jaw firmly. He swallowed, staring into the dark green windows of conviction on his older brother.

Dean stood over him, glaring back. Then he blinked, shaking his head slightly and remembering Bobby was in the room too. He cleared his throat and made himself relax, looking around the room to give him time to calm himself. Then he looked back down at his baby brother. He leaned down, putting a hand out slowly.

Sam appraised it, then him. He made his gaze go back to the offered hand and took it. Dean pulled him up to his feet and let go quickly, watching as Sam took a clear step back from him.

"Whut? You gonna swing for me, or whut?" he demanded.

Sam eyed him, rubbing at his jaw. He thought for a long second. And then another one. He bottled the anger railing at his sibling. He sniffed.

"No," he admitted.

Dean met his eyes for a moment, then flicked his away neatly. He turned and looked at Bobby. "Well?" he grumped. "Are we ready, or whut?"

Sam glanced up and paused, sighting the back of Dean's shirt. And a hand print, smaller than his own, right in the middle of Dean's back. It was dark, damp, carefully-pressed. He blinked, wondering how and why his brother had acquired it.

"_Are_ we ready?" Bobby asked pointedly, gesturing to Sam with his chin.

Dean turned round again. "Well?" he asked Sam. "We doing this or not?"

"Yeah," Sam said, letting his hand drop. "Yeah." _It's nothing_, he realised, shaking his head as if to clear it, _it's just a hand print. No big deal_. He straightened and nodded at them both. "Let's do it," he shrugged.

.

.


	8. EIGHT: Ain't That A Bitch

**EIGHT**

**Ain't That A Bitch**

**.**

**

* * *

**

_Contains reference to episode 3.04: 'Sin City'._

* * *

Sam got up off his knees quickly, backing away from the summoning pentacle and looking around the library.

"That should do it," he breathed, looking over at Dean. He was in the corner, watching the room carefully.

"Super," he commented quietly.

Bobby's eyes slid to one side as he listened intently. He looked over at Sam, fingering his compact book of Latin. He turned a little, noticing Dean's hand come up slowly. He rubbed at his collarbone gingerly, and Bobby wondered if it were an old wound or his pentagram tattoo making him uneasy.

There was a sound and Sam twitched. His head snapped round to look at the large archway that acted as a door to the room. He looked at Dean and then gestured back to the arch with his head.

Dean nodded, his hand going to his back jeans pocket and the flask of holy water. He pulled it out slowly, watching the arch as he unscrewed the cap slightly.

A chair lifted up off the floor and flew across the room. It smashed into Sam, sending him head first into the carpet. He rolled to get to his knees and heard another wooden smashing sound. Something dark blurred across his vision and he ducked in fear. A tremendous _wallop_ reverberated around the room and there came the unmistakable sound of Dean cursing with winded lungs.

Sam crawled to his feet. He heard footsteps but could see no-one. He whirled quickly, looking to check for Bobby. He was distracted.

"Come on, you cheatin' bastard!" Dean cried in anger, using the wall behind him to help him to his feet. He winced and hissed something unkind under his breath, grasping at his side quickly.

Books leapt from the far shelf _en masse_, hurling themselves at Dean. He managed to duck and dodge. Most of them missed. One of them caught him in the head and he staggered back against the wall.

Sam pulled his flask and unscrewed it, simply dashing it out around him in a huge circle. There was a hiss and a noise indicating pain. Sam hurried round to the spot and chucked more water out. This time there was a tiny amount of steam and a strangled cry.

"Gotcha!" Sam snapped maliciously.

Dean pushed himself off the wall and brought his flask to bear, flinging water over the area of the steam. It bubbled and scorched thin air, sending out screams of pain and more superheated air.

Abruptly it stopped. The boys looked at each other then around the room hastily. Sam looked down at the carpet, looking for something. Dean looked down too, then realised he had no clue what he was supposed to be looking for.

They turned at a sound behind them and found Bobby. He was unscrewing the cap on his flask slowly, his eyes searching across the carpet too.

Dean heard a sound and turned to his right. Something smacked into his wrist and the flask was catapulted into the air. He felt a strong grip on his shirt and he flew upwards. He slammed into something he really hoped was not the ceiling. The next thing he registered was the carpet pounding him in the face.

He heard Sam grunt with pain or surprise. A smash told him he was probably no longer on his feet either.

Bobby closed his eyes, turning in a circle, listening for the invisible attacker. His ears pricked and he took a single, deliberate step to his right. Something heavy weighed into his shoulder. It flailed round, knocked off balance. It was hurled to the rug and Bobby sprang back quickly.

Sam pushed a broken chair from his legs, climbing up and groaning in pain and frustration. He got his breath back, looking at Dean. His older brother was laboriously righting himself and finding his hands and knees. Sam dusted himself down slowly, crossing the room and putting a hand to Dean's shirt over his shoulder. He pulled and helped him to his feet.

"When you two girls are ready," Bobby grumped, turning to look down at the rug, "we got a demon to interrogate."

They looked over to find the small, black-haired man on the rug where he had fallen. Bobby folded his arms and looked at him.

"I thought he lost that meat suit?" Dean groaned, still getting some breath back. Sam let go of his elbow and came closer to the demon, studying him. Dean put a hand to his head, finding blood on his palm when he brought it away. He hissed and straightened, following his brother over.

"I liked it. I went back for it," the man spat. He looked up at Bobby. "Nice footwork. But do you really think a little tumble's going to stop me?"

"That rug ain't there for decoration," Bobby announced, stepping back. He crouched and lifted a corner slowly, peeling it back to reveal part of the large devil's trap spray-painted underneath. "Dumbass," he tutted dismissively.

"Bastards!" the man heaved.

Dean snorted in amusement. "Whatever. You got any last words before we re-locate your ass?"

Sam opened his book with a flourish, smiling at the possessed man politely.

"Burn in Hell!" he raged.

"Maybe later," Dean managed. "So you gonna tell us what all this is about?" he asked, wandering closer and standing just shy of the rug.

"No. I'm just going to wait for my chance, then kill the three of you," he seethed.

Dean turned slightly to look over his shoulder at Bobby with a complacent smile. "The balls on this guy," he marvelled, indicating him with a thumb.

Sam took a step forward, looking at the demon. "I think you'd better start explaining," he said seriously. "We're tired and I could just read you on your way."

"But you won't," he said quickly.

"Is that right?" Dean smiled pleasantly.

"You're hoping I can tell you what's after your precious new friend, aren't you?"

"Nah," Sam sneered, "I don't think you know anything."

"Fine," the demon nodded, putting his hands out behind him and resting back. "You pretend you don't want me to explain, and I'll pretend I know nothing. We'll just stay here till you lot die of old age."

"That's a thought," Dean said, surprised, flicking his gaze to the ceiling.

"Oh yeah, that's right - you've only got a month left before your contract is up and you go to Hell anyway," the demon replied brightly. He looked over at Sam. "Must be a relief for you, right?"

"Must burn for _you_, right?" Sam said harshly. "Knowing that Dean could end up in the Pit, slowly turning into one of you, living indefinitely - and after he killed your sister, too. Doesn't that just twist the knife?" he accused.

Dean slid his eyes over to see Bobby's worried frown. "So tell us, just out of curiosity," Dean said, slowly turning back to the man on the rug, "who was she, anyway?"

"You knew her as Casey," the man growled angrily. "But she was my sister. And you killed her."

"Casey?" Dean blurted, surprised. An image popped into his head of a tall, well-endowed young lady with a basement full of interesting small-talk and rubble.

"Oh. Actually?" Sam said with complete innocence, raising his hand slightly, "that would be me."

"You think I'm going to believe you killed her while Dean just stood there?" he snapped. "Please! I may be over-excited at the thought of snapping you both in two, but I'm not stupid."

Dean shook his head slowly, then wandered along the edge of the rug aimlessly. "You know, I could put you straight there, but I really don't think you care. So instead I'll say that it's not much use killing us two if the one little person who stopped you last time is still around, itching for revenge, is it?"

"What?"

"Well… You kill me and my brother, and Moon's gonna exorcise your ass straight back to Hell. Or just kill you. Pretty neat trick last time, huh? Evicting you from this poor bastard you're possessing, nearly rubber-banding you back to the Bad Fire? Not bad."

"She'd be easy to kill," he sneered.

"Don't be too sure," Dean said craftily, waving a finger at him with a charming smile. "Young and petite she may be, but she's kinda got herself attached to me, and that means that, should anything happen to me, she wouldn't hesitate to come find you. You know she could summon you right back here and then break you into little pieces, right?"

"She's just a stupid girl," he spat. Sam fumed and opened his mouth.

"Girl? Yes. Stupid? Maybe," Dean interrupted. Bobby and Sam exchanged a puzzled frown. "But you have to admit, she knows a _shitload_ of tricks," Dean continued pleasantly. "I mean, damn, she had you on the floor last time. And she will do again," he winked, overly amused. "She's just rabid puppy-dog worshipful enough of me to hunt you down and kill you."

"Dean!" Sam protested.

"Shut up, Sam. It's true," Dean snapped. "So you see, she's actually pretty useful," he went on, turning back to the demon.

He appeared to be paying more attention, Bobby noticed. He studied him, then looked at Sam and finally Dean. He took a steady step back, his head tilting slightly as he watched the elder Winchester.

"Bet you'd like to get your hands on her, right?" Dean goaded.

"You have no idea," the demon spat. "The arrogance, thinking she could use a dispersal spell on me!"

"Too bad that other dude's coming for her." He paused, assessing the demon's anger carefully. "Must be another thing to add to the list of things that have pissed you off today, huh?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," the demon snarled.

"Well, once he arrives and takes back what she stole from him, you're not going to have a girl to get revenge on," Dean shrugged. "He'd have beaten you to it - and him not even a proper demon. Ah well. Can't win 'em all, I guess."

"No," the man seethed.

"Pretty funny from our point of view though," Dean smirked. "I mean, this guy turned up a while ago, brought the clumsy kid back to life, making her able to grow up into this angsty bundle of hero worship. Which robs you of killing us two, and you can't even touch her for it, cos he's on his way back to take her himself," Dean grinned maliciously. "Ain't that a bitch."

"Shut up," he growled.

"Or what?" Dean chuckled. "This stalker dude wants Moon, but he's gonna have to come through me first, and anyone else who gets in his way - he ain't bothered what demonic short-bus he takes out in the meantime."

"That second-rate pretender? He's just playing at what we really do! Just cos he's been giving and taking life from those little prairie-loving no-hopes for thousands of years doesn't make him special!" the demon raged.

"Yeah? Maybe not, but he's still going to get closer to her than you ever will," Dean sneered. "You're not going to be here to see it anyway - Sam here's gonna send you home," he added. "But don't worry," he added quickly, stopping short and putting his hands up in a calming gesture, "we'll kill him too. We'll take care of your rival for you."

"He's not my rival! He's not even an equal! He's _nothing_ compared to me! He's just some jumped up angel of death working to some stupid code!"

"Really? Fact remains he's in _your_ way, smartass."

"I'll kill you whether he gets here or not!" he growled.

"But I got my own Potawatomi bodyguard, man. You can't touch me," he grinned, opening his hands out and waggling his eyebrows at him.

The demon hissed and scrabbled to his feet. He rushed the edge of the circle and bounced off the inside of the invisible wall with a grunt.

"Did you want something?" Dean asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Dean," Bobby hissed.

"I've had enough of this," Sam put in, disgusted. He opened his book determinedly.

"Naw, wait," Dean said, "we're not done here."

"Yes we are," Sam snapped. "You can trash Moon all you like, you ungrateful bastard, but I'm not standing here and watching you preen in front of a goddamned demon. Grow up," he cried angrily. "We're done."

"_No_, Sam," he said pointedly, eyeing his brother in desperation, "we're _not_!" He reached up to take the book.

Sam dodged back, pulling the book with him. Dean took a step but Sam pushed his hand away. Dean over-balanced and stepped back to regain it. His boot scuffed into the rug, tipping the edge up and over.

Sam grabbed his shirt to stop him falling back into the circle. Dean's boot caught the spray paint on the floor as Sam hauled him clear.

"Will you two chuckleheads knock it off!" Bobby demanded.

There was a sudden laugh and they all stopped to look at the source.

The demon stood quickly, then looked down. Dean's boot had scratched at the sprayed markings of the devil's trap. A thin line broke the ring.

The demon drew himself up. "Thanks, Dean," he said politely. "I'll just be taking care of your little friend before her Angel of Death appears. And then I think I'll kill him too."

Dean pushed Sam from him quickly. He didn't wait to check behind him. He turned and ran.

Bobby and Sam looked at each other, confused. The man in the circle leaned back and they knew what was coming next. They jumped back out of the way as the man's mouth opened and black smoke pushed its way up and out of the body.

It curled and swirled, twisting and writhing, funnelling out of the tiny crack in the markings. Then it regrouped and ignored the two men. Instead it sped out of the library after the missing Winchester.

"Dean!" Sam called in warning. He snatched up his holy water and took off after the shade. Bobby followed suit, stopping to pick up the fallen book of Latin.

He heard Sam pounding through the house and blindly gave chase. He stopped as Sam skidded to a halt against the doorjamb to the kitchen. He bumped into his arm across the doorway. They both just stood, mouths open.

"Come and get her then, you brainless son of a bitch!" Dean was shouting.

He and Moon were standing at the far end. She watched in horror as the black smoke filed toward them. Moon struggled against his hands on her arms, but Dean had her fast.

"What are you doing!" Sam bellowed in outrage.

He pushed himself off the doorjamb but Bobby grasped at his shoulder. "Wait!"

The black smoke hurled itself at Moon. It sped up to her face, but as it touched she was thrown to one side. The smoke hurtled on through the space.

And Dean suddenly tugged on something long and shiny. The black smoke pummelled itself into the emptiness that had been a girl just a moment before.

Dean slammed the fridge door on his captive, trapping it inside. It banged and fought against the confined space. He threw himself against the refrigerator back-first, his hands grasping at the edges. The hammering and screeching in anger continued. The fridge rocked and bounced. Dean dug his heels into the floor and pushed with all his strength, grunting with the effort.

Bobby and Sam just gaped as Moon pulled herself together and rushed over. She put her hands to the door either side of Dean's shirt and pushed as hard as she could. Her hands slid off the cream metal door and she tried again. The fridge rocked and thundered, the demon inside screamed and lashed out. But the door held shut. Moon's hands slipped free and she landed against Dean's amulet, cursing. She straightened and put her hands to his front instead, pushing on him.

The appliance shivered and bucked with the force of the pounding coming from within. Dean and Moon simply pushed and heaved at it, crying out in desperation to keep it shut.

Abruptly it all stopped. The fridge rocked once to find all four feet again, and the noise within simply cut out.

Dean realised he had closed his eyes and opened one cautiously. He swivelled it round the room, finding everything in place and no smoke. He cleared his throat and opened his other eye quickly, feeling something warm against his front. He looked down and saw Moon, still leaning her weight on her hands against the t-shirt over his ribs, getting her breath back.

"Think you can let go now," he observed.

"Oh! Sorry," she gasped, springing back off him and looking at her hands. She sniffed and wiped them together.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Bobby cried, baffled.

Dean turned his head to look at him, but kept his hold on the fridge. "Trapping him so Moon can summon her stalker dude," he said innocently. "That was the plan, right?" he asked her.

"Kinda," she admitted. "Although you said some pretty harsh things about me, Dean Like-The-Rifle. I don't think I like you any more," she teased with a wobbly smile.

"Aw c'mon, you know I made all that up, right? I deserve an Oscar for that per--"

"Plan? _Plan_? You mean you actually _wanted_ a demon stuck in an icebox?" Bobby managed at full volume.

"Yeah, and how does that work again?" Sam interrupted. Moon pointed a nervous hand at the side of the refrigerator and Sam blinked at the design cut into the surface. "Devil's traps? You made a Curse Box out of a _refrigerator_?" he gaped.

"One on each side," Moon nodded. "And the top. We even drew one on the floor and wheeled it back over it," she added quietly.

Sam and Bobby exchanged a look of disbelief. Then Bobby managed to close his mouth and looked back at Dean, still plastered against the door.

"Son… I gotta tell you… You really have _cracked_ if you think--"

Sam snapped his fingers abruptly and Bobby stopped short.

"Everything you said and did - you _wanted_ him to try to kill her?" he guessed. "Cos he'd get trapped, and then her stalker would--. You want our demon to kill her stalker?"

"Well it sure saves us doing it!" Dean reasoned.

"Did you eat a bowl of stupid for breakfast?" Bobby demanded. "What if these two assholes realise they're more or less on the same side and agree to take us out?"

"Er… Whu - uhm… There are five of us, and only two of them?" Dean offered hopefully.

"Of all the damn-fool…" Bobby muttered, turning away and marching out of the kitchen.

Moon looked at Sam. "What do you think?"

Sam ran his hands back through his hair and blew out a huff.

"Honestly?" he said sternly, fixing Dean with a look. "If I didn't need him to keep his weight on that icebox, I'd be giving serious thought to kicking his dumb, reckless, selfish ass," he snapped.

"Hey, now," Dean protested, slightly out of breath from his position and effort, "there's no need to get nasty."

"It would have been nice to have been in on the masterplan," Sam added angrily. "Trapping a demon in a refrigerator? You _freak_," he accused, shaking his head.

The fridge door was banged and pummelled from the inside abruptly and Dean dug his heels into the linoleum, pushing back against the door with haste.

"We're going to have to move fast," Sam observed.

"He's stuck - in here - Sam," Dean growled, straining back against the door.

"For how long? You gonna stand there all day? What if this stalker takes a while to show?" he pointed out. "How long can you stand there like that?"

"He'll be ok," Moon said firmly, and Sam raised his eyebrows at her.

"Because?"

"Because the demon can't touch him. Not while Dean's got his back to him," she said quickly. Both boys looked at her - just looked.

"And why's that?" Sam asked slowly.

"A hand of protection - Dean's got one on his--"

"You put that handprint on his shirt!" Sam realised. "It's keeping the demon at bay?"

"For now," she admitted. Dean heaved against the struggling fridge, leaning his head back too. "As long as he doesn't let go."

"Then we don't have long," Sam nodded. "You know he has this attention deficit problem?"

"I've noticed," she teased.

"Super - just - extra groovy," Dean managed against the shivering appliance. "We can - think of - new ways to put me down - later," he hissed. "Summon the son of a bitch now!"

"Uh - yeah, slight problem there," Sam said deliberately. "We didn't get a name. You could have at least got that!"

"He got us a description," Moon said, and Sam raised expectant eyebrows at her. "The Angel Of Death. It doesn't have a name - it just is."

"Fine," Sam allowed. "Do you have everything you need to get him here?"

"Don't need much," she admitted. She took Sam's sleeve and pulled him from the kitchen. "We need to find Sunny from her hiding place though."

"Why?"

"Can you read and recite in Algonquian Potawatomi dialect?"

"Good point," he agreed.

.

.


	9. NINE: Sweet Child Of Mine

**NINE**

**Sweet Child Of Mine**

**

* * *

**

.

"I'm going to do this so wrong," Sunny havered, biting her lip, watching Sam and Moon. They skittered around Bobby's library, moving rugs and furniture, closing the curtains and sweeping the piles of fallen books to one side. Bobby was setting up books and candles on his desk.

"I hope for your sister's sake that you don't," he pointed out, looking up at her.

"But… Ok, I have a confession to make," she said weakly. Bobby paused and looked at her, noticing the other two didn't even blink.

"Let me guess - you don't believe in angels of death?" he asked politely. He could sense he was on thin ice.

"Well… yeah, that's pretty much it," she admitted, looking at him. "This is all a bit… I just don't really know what's going on."

"You don't have to," Moon put in sharply. "All you have to do is stand there and help me read. You do remember how to read, right?" she said suddenly, stopping short to turn and look at her sister.

"Uhm… kinda," she nodded.

"Kinda? Keesis!" Moon protested.

"Well how often do you have to read and speak Potawatomi?" she demanded.

"I still read Grandma's book," Moon grumped. "Every day, actually."

"Grandma's book?" Sunny asked. "The one with the--"

"Yes, the one with the legends and spells and stuff," Moon said, looking away.

"Why?"

"Cos she told me to! And I'm friggin' glad I did now!" she shot back defensively.

"Alright, alright," Sam called, his hands up in a placating gesture. "Can we get this set up?"

"Hello?" came a voice from the kitchen, accompanied by a slight banging sound. "Anytime you're ready, people!"

Sam and Bobby looked at the arch to the hall and therefore kitchen, and then back at the girls.

"Dean can't hold that icebox forever," Bobby pointed out. "So come on, Sunny. You have to just pretend for the time being. Can you do that?" he asked with an effort to be gentle.

"I… I guess," she nodded timidly.

"Put it this way," Sam said helpfully, "even if you don't believe in the Angel of Death, you've seen this demon we've got stuck in the kitchen, right? So he must be real, right?"

"Yeah," Sunny nodded.

"So just think of him as another kind," Sam said. "He's real enough." He turned and looked at Bobby, turning his hands out to indicate the room, and the older hunter nodded.

"Looks like we're ready, if the girls are."

Moon nodded, walking over and taking her sister's arm. She walked them round to Bobby's desk, and he was impressed by Moon's calm demeanour. Then he noticed her hand shake a little as she let her sister go and reached out for the book. Something about the way she kept her other hand closed to stop it trembling made him a shade even more impressed with her resolve. He folded his arms and stood back.

"Everyone know what to do?" he asked the room at large.

"Sunny - when that thing arrives, you _hide_," Sam said.

"I know! I know! That's pretty much been my week so far, hasn't it?" she snapped miserably. "Sunny, hide! Sunny, duck! Sunny go cry in the back room!" she pointed out.

Moon looked at her. "If you like," she said deliberately slowly, "you can stand here and confront the bastard while _I_ go hide in the back room for once."

"You know, your language has really gone downhill since you've been knocking about with that _Shupshe_," Sunny said disapprovingly.

Moon tutted and rolled her eyes. "Come on, we have to get this over with."

Bobby eyed her, then looked over at Sam. He turned and walked out through the archway, round the corner and into the kitchen. He found Dean still leaning back against the refrigerator.

"Oh, Sam, thank God," he breathed. "You taking a shift now or are we finally gonna get this Celebrity Deathmatch going?"

"We're calling him in," he nodded. "Shouldn't be long now - if he gets here fast," he shrugged, enjoying his brother's physical distress. "I'll be in the library. When I shout--"

"Yeah yeah, I know," Dean nodded wearily. "Unleash Hell."

"Something like that," Sam grinned. "Watch yourself, Maximus."

"You just keep an eye on those girls. Bobby's got an idea of what's going down, they probably don't."

"Right." He turned to go.

"And you," Dean added quickly.

Sam paused and turned. "What?"

"Well don't get your head knocked off by some ancient spirit-walker dude. I ain't gluing it back on again."

"Charming," he grinned. He watched Dean's uneasy nod, then just waved a dismissive hand at him, walking back out and round to the library.

.

* * *

.

Moon and Sunny bent over the book, Moon murmuring and pointing at things in the pages. Sunny nodded and then waved hands at her, and Moon did it all again patiently.

Bobby, arms folded, leant against the door arch with a practised eye. Sam walked in through the arch, stopping next to him.

"We ready yet?" he asked quietly.

"Mostly," Bobby observed. "Seems Sunny's panicking over forgettin' words."

"Yeah well. They're not exactly common usage," Sam sighed. "Look… Bobby…"

"What?" he breathed, not looking away from the two girls at his desk.

"Well… you think we can pull this off?"

"Sam, now is not the time to have doubts. Your brother seems to think we can."

"Yeah well, he also thinks Celine Dion is a Banshee."

"Hey, Celine Dion _is_ a Banshee," Bobby smiled at him.

"Ok," Moon said loudly, clapping her hands together. "Think we're ready."

"Right," Sam said smartly, straightening up and walking to the window. He leaned back on it, looking round the room. "I feel kinda useless without a gun though."

"They're not going to work today," Moon said edgily. "All we've got is that demon. He'd better be as bad-ass as he thinks he is."

"Oh, I think we'll be ok there," Bobby said confidently, and both sisters raised their heads.

"_Mkete'mko_," they said together, then looked at each other and chuckled. Sunny caught Bobby's unimpressed look and waved a hand at him.

"It means black bear," she allowed. Bobby blinked.

"How come you get to be a bear?" Sam asked a little peevishly. "You get a bear, Dean gets a cougar. It's not fair," he stated.

"Why, what are you?" Bobby asked, looking at him across the room.

"A fox," the sisters put in.

Bobby squinted at Sam, thought for a second, then nodded. "Yup, that's you alright."

Sam's eyes went through an eye-roll drag-race that would have won fastest mile by a very long shot, had anyone else tried to compete. Then he looked back at the girls and opened his mouth.

"Come on, Sammy! Shift your ass!" came an annoyed shout from the direction of the kitchen.

Sam cleared his throat. "Let's go," he shrugged at the girls.

They bent over the book and Moon cleared her throat. She picked up a small candle and murmured something as she lit it steadily. She handed the lighted candle to Sunny, nudging her. She held it carefully, looking at the book on the desk and reading slowly. Moon lit another candle and held it herself, looking at the facing page and starting to read.

Bobby and Sam simply watched as the two girls read slowly, moving the candles up and then together, their voices reading different words that seemed to compliment each other. Their voices got louder and then they put the candles on the desk. Another long minute of careful words and they leaned over and blew them out quickly.

They stood back from the book, staring around the room. Sunny swallowed and put her hand out, holding onto her younger sister's arm loosely. She put her hand up and covered it warmly, willing herself not to shake as they waited for something, anything to happen.

There was no sound, no movement. Sam and Bobby looked at each other warily as the girls stood back from the book slowly.

"Now?" came an almost distant shout, making everyone jump.

"Shut up!" Sam called back.

They stared round the library. Nothing stirred.

"You sure that was right?" Sunny whispered.

"Sshh!" Moon hissed. She noticed Bobby move and looked at him. He lifted his hand slowly and pointed past Moon, his eyes wide.

She and her sister turned quickly. They gave a shared squeak of fear. Moon grabbed her sister's arm and yanked them back hurriedly. They banged into the table and looked up.

Stretching a good seven feet tall was a swirling, shifting plethora of shapes that appeared to make up a mass of body. Animal stripes and spots could be seen rippling over the surface, moving and changing like sea currents. Rosettes of leopard spots and strange tail-ends of tiger bars chased beige circles of tan and black across the huge torso and arms. The large, feline head tilted and looked down at the two girls. Huge glittering blue eyes studied them at leisure it seemed, as they let their eyes slide down over what appeared to be a vast slab of muscled man with animal paws and head.

"Now?" came Dean's muffled shout.

"Shut _up_!" Sam managed, his eyes stuck open at the sight. "_Moon_," he hissed.

She shook herself and pulled on her sister, sliding them slowly round the desk. The giant head simply turned to watch them go.

They made it round the edge of the desk and backed away quickly. The wall bumped into Sunny's back and she jumped slightly in fright. She turned her head to find Sam. Then she bolted across the room and flew into him. He stretched an arm round her to shift her behind him quickly, eyeing the creature still watching everyone.

Its enormous feline muzzle opened to reveal many shiny teeth. "Pukkeesis?" it breathed, looking at Moon.

"Now?" Dean's voice strained, to the accompaniment of muffled bumps and bangs.

"Now!" Sam shouted.

Bobby hurried over to Moon. He snatched at her arm, dragging her back and to the arch with him. They ducked back, pressing themselves into the woodwork, safely tucked out of the way.

Not a moment too soon. A howling, screaming mass of angry black smoke roiled through the arch. It spread through the room before the feline deity behind the desk saw it.

Its eyes flashed in disgust. It put one paw on the desk and simply leapt over the top. It landed gracefully in the centre of the room. There was a slight bang behind them and Bobby and Moon turned. They saw Dean come haring round the corner. He grasped at the door arch to help him

skid to a stop right in the middle, his mouth open at the sight that greeted him.

"Woah - huge naked jungle cat dude!" he managed in shock.

The black smoke coiled around the tall mix of feline and man. The creature brought pawlike hands up to grasp at it. They cut straight through the dank air. It swirled and lifted. The creature was hauled off its paws and thrown into the wall.

"No! Get up!" Moon called. Bobby looked at her. "Sorry," she muttered, "cultural bias."

There was a crash. They looked up and found the smoke flailing, apparently trapped within the deity's paws after all.

"Maybe the pussy ain't such a pussy," Dean observed worriedly. He edged round the arch and Moon put a hand out for his shirt. She pulled him over and kept a nervous hand on his arm tightly.

"Sam!" Bobby called over the noise of the smoke's screams. The feline was hauling it backwards, taking it in with both paws like a fishing net.

Sam and Sunny looked over at Bobby. They began to inch around the wall toward him.

The demon pulled free. It turned and encircled the huge deity. The creature grabbed at the desk for purchase. The smoke swirled and pushed up. The cat was thrown up and spun upside down before it landed head-first in the carpet. The resulting thud nearly shook the audience from their feet.

Sam pulled on the trembling girl under his arm, edging toward the arch. He slid a little faster against the wall. There was an almighty crash as the two Titans battled it out. Sam heard a whistling noise and ducked in time to avoid being smacked in the head with a wayward book. Sunny squeaked in terror. He pulled her on quickly.

Moon let go of Dean to ball her fists. "Come on! Kick his ass!" she bawled into the fray.

The deity grasped at the demonic cloud. There was an horrific sucking sound as the air wavered and shivered as if super-heated. The cloud squirmed and whipped from side to side. The paws came round and it looked to all the assembled humans that it was choking the energy directly from the smoke itself.

"Come on! Get him!" Moon shouted.

Tendrils of energy lashed out from the cloud. They arced across the desk in spectral blue, catching at the sides of the cat creature. It roared in pain and anger, squeezing and pulling on the black smoke. Blue lights shot out from the demon, smashing into bookcases.

Dean looked over to check his brother, currently shielding Sunny from the spray of papers, books and anything simply not weighed down. They flew about the room as if catapulted, one large tome clattering into the window and shattering it into a thousand pieces. Everyone ducked, the noise of the fight starting to climb as the demon appeared to pull out all the stops. It bucked and snapped from side to side, coiling round the creature in apparent desperation.

The creature opened huge jaws and yanked at the smoke.

"Oh this is so not good," Dean breathed, grabbing Moon and pulling her back and into him. Bobby tried to move further back but he was already against the wall.

Sam shuffled he and Sunny across the wall and into the corner to be a little further from the fight.

The Angel of Death pulled on the smoke and sank its teeth deep into the roiling, curling mass of black rage. There was an ear-splitting, pulsing scream.

Everyone grabbed their ears. It rang louder and louder. The glass in the bookcase door smashed and rained over the creature and the demon. Neither noticed. The humans clutched at their ears as the cat creature pulled its head free of the nimbus of evil. It stretched it tight between its paws and tilted its head.

It snapped forward, into the smoke. There was an almighty flash and something new blanketed the library.

Silence.

Bobby opened his eyes first. He stared at the creature before his hand came up dumbly and knocked Dean's arm more through luck than design.

Dean opened his eyes and started. He grabbed at Moon to pull her back again. He looked over at Sam, finding Sunny turned into him, her head buried in his chest and his hand to her head, holding her safely.

"Dude," Dean hissed hoarsely.

Sam opened an eye and looked up quickly.

"Oh," he managed, staring at the cat creature in wonder.

"Holy shit is more like it!" Dean growled. "He just wiped the floor with a demon! How are we supposed to kill _this_ son of a bitch?"

"It was your idea! _You_ think of something!" Sam hissed back.

The cat creature appeared to ignore them, simply checking the room carefully. He looked down at the carpet and lifted a huge paw, tapping at the rug under him slowly. He nodded, then looked up.

Straight at Moon. He took a single step forward, holding a paw out to her. "Pukkeesis. Child," he said clearly.

She swallowed and moved to walk. But Dean clamped his hands round her shoulders and held her back.

"What are you doing?" he hissed from behind her.

"Maybe this was how it was meant to happen," she managed. She took a deep breath and Dean heard the catch in her throat all too well. "Thanks for trying," she added, her voice unstable. She shook at his grip and took a step.

But Dean yanked her back against him. "No it's not!" he protested.

"How do you know that?" Moon demanded, turning to look at him. "Have you taken a good look at this angel, Dean? Does he seem the stealing, evil, cheating type to you?"

"But it's not right!" Dean shot back. "Why has he come for you, huh? What have you done that he can't live with?" He looked up at the cat creature. He was simply waiting, his head titled patiently, as if trying to follow the conversation. "Hey, you! Why does she have to go anywhere?"

"She has to repay what she owes," the creature replied gently.

"But she doesn't owe anyone anything - it was her grandmother!" he pointed out.

"Dean," Sam hissed.

"Shut up, Sam!" He turned back to the creature. "She took nothing!"

"But she has something she shouldn't," the deity reasoned. "The moment I was used to bring her back, she belonged to me. But humans were never meant to live again. There is a reason you have a thing called 'death'. Everyone has their time." His voice was smooth, sad, apologetic, and Sam had to fight the ugly truth of Dean's own clock ticking over both their heads.

"But…" Dean was out of ideas. Moon pulled free of his grasp and turned slowly, looking at him. Her eyes shone with tears as she put her hands up against his chest warmly.

"Thanks," she said clearly. "Really. For everything you've done, for everything you've tried to do. And everything you will do. It's time I was going."

"It's never time to--"

"Dean," she interrupted. "Please. Just… I have to go. I should never have been here in the first place. And you're perhaps the only one who could understand that."

"Moon," Sunny called. "Moon?"

She looked over at her older sister. She gave a small, knowing smile. Sunny gently pushed Sam aside and crossed the carpet to her sister. She put her hands to her shoulders firmly. Then she let her eyes close and pulled her into a hug.

"My baby sister," she whispered into her hair. Moon held on tightly, trying to stop her own eyes silently streaming. She was unsuccessful. "My baby sister," Sunny whimpered, unable to stop her tears either. "I don't know what--. What will - will I do now?"

"Find someone," Moon replied, "please."

"Don't go," Sunny begged.

"I have to."

"You're always so stubborn!" Sunny accused. "This is - not - not _fair_! Why do I have to - lose - lose you? You're my baby sister! I'm supposed to - to look after - after you," she sobbed.

Sam let his head fall, unable to stop the scene from wrenching holes in his heart. He heard the sounds of upset clearly, felt the injustice, tasted his own helplessness. He managed to look up and noticed Bobby shift his feet against the carpet, keeping his head down. He knew his own face was wet and lifted his hands to wipe it quickly. He looked over the girls' heads to his big brother.

He had expected hurt. He had expected guilt. He had expected perhaps a tiny, shiny tear on his brother's face. What he didn't expect was what he saw: red-rimmed, determined eyes. Sam knew he was staring but he couldn't stop. Dean wrenched his attention from the sisters and instinctively turned his head. He met Sam's gaze and the younger Winchester straightened his back steadily. Dean's eyes turned angry as he shook a slow head at him.

The sisters pulled back from each other and Sunny wiped at her sister's face slowly.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I should have known what she did. I should have found a way to stop this."

Sam felt the words cut straight through his heart.

_Is this how it ends? Is this what will happen to Dean? Will he get the same peaceful end? Why haven't I done something? Why haven't I got him out of this deal already?_

It was all he could do to keep his eyes on the pair of them and not let himself collapse into a small ball on the carpet.

But Moon was shaking her head. "You didn't know. She took care of that." She put her hands up and removed her sister's from her face. "Be seeing you," she whispered, with an attempt at a smile.

Sunny just stared in anguish, letting her hands fall. Moon sniffed once, willing herself not to cry. She turned and faced the tall creature.

"Ready?" he asked gently. She nodded and took a step forward. He stretched out his paw for her, smiling slightly. "Just take my hand," he nodded.

She let out a tiny sob but put a hand over her mouth, determined to go with dignity. She risked a look back over her shoulder at her sister. She looked at Bobby and nodded once. He managed to put a finger to his forehead in response. She looked at Sam, and the sight of his face sheened with tears made her swallow. She took a deep breath and held it, looking over at Dean.

He was watching with dark green eyes, full of something she couldn't guess. But not water. She smiled but his face didn't move.

"When all this is over - for you - don't sleep too long, like Ash did," she winked. "You might just miss the end of the world."

"I'll take the S-Mart ending every time," he said confidently. She smiled, unable to stop a small sob escaping her as she nodded at him. She couldn't bring herself to speak, so she nodded once more. She turned her back on him bravely, facing the Angel of Death.

She walked toward him, ready to touch his paw.

"I don't believe this," Dean growled suddenly. He looked around at everyone, his mouth open in indignant disbelief at them all, simply standing and watching. "This is _not_ how it's supposed to end!" He took swift steps to catch her up.

"Stay away!" the creature hissed abruptly. "I'm not here for you!"

But Dean grabbed Moon's arm and pulled her back. The creature reached for her with his paw. Dean put his other hand up and grasped the furry arm, pushing at it.

"No!" Sam shouted desperately.

"Dean, no!" Moon cried, horrified at the sight of his hand on the creature's arm. "You mustn't touch an Angel of--"

The creature looked down at his arm, outraged that someone would have the audacity to try and restrain him. He followed his arm to the offending hand, and wasted a moment thinking about reaching over and flicking it off with his other paw.

But he knew he wouldn't have to.

The moment Dean's hand connected with the fur, the life simply bled out of him.

He was dead before he even hit the carpet.

.

.


	10. TEN: Live And Let Die

**TEN**

**Live And Let Die**

**.**

**

* * *

  
**

"Dean!" Sam bellowed. He ran over, pushing the girls out of his way a little roughly. He fell to his knees next to his brother.

"Do not touch him!" the creature roared in anger. Sam jumped in real fear, landing on his backside with his hands on the carpet behind him, looking up at the creature. "You _infantile_ little creatures!" the catlike being raged.

Sam stole a look behind him to find the girls had already retreated to Bobby. Sam put his hands out further back, slowly stealing backwards across the carpet. His eyes fell to his brother desperately.

The Angel of Death's chest was heaving in outrage, his paws clenching and unclenching.

"I wasn't here for him! See what you've done!" he shouted, then looked down at Dean. He had simply collapsed and landed on his back on the rug, his arms out wide. "This is - this is - this is not right!" the angel cried.

Sam made it to the wall and got to his feet slowly, his eyes glued to his brother, unable to look away. "You're damn right it isn't!" he shouted angrily.

"He wasn't who I came for! He is nothing to do with me!" the deity shot back. "You stupid, narrow-minded, _sel_fish humans!"

"You mean you weren't supposed to kill him?" Sam demanded, his face wet. He dashed at an eye quickly to dry it.

"I don't _kill_ anyone!" the creature fumed. "I collect! He is not on my collection list! He never will be! He's not our kind - he has interfered and now there will be dire consequences!"

"For who?" Bobby managed, squeezing at Sam's arm.

"Everyone!" He whirled away from them, marching to the desk and around slowly. He blew out a tremendous huff, turning and looking back at Dean.

Sam simply stared at his dead brother, stalling a teary intake of breath. He took a step toward him.

"Don't! Once you touch him, he's lost forever," Moon cried fearfully.

"What?" Sam dared, unable to tear his eyes from Dean's lifeless face. _He looks so peaceful._

"Because… because he's…" Moon began edgily.

"Gaaah!" came an enraged shout of frustration, making everyone jump. "You know what?" Sunny added, her annoyance palpable, "I've had enough of this!" She walked free of them all and stood over Dean, her hands on her hips. "It's been 'Sunny, do this', 'Sunny, don't do that' all friggin' week and I'm sorry, but I'm _not standing for this shit any more_!"

The room simply blinked at her. Including the Angel of Death.

She didn't even notice. She looked down at Dean, then up at the cat creature. "You know he's never going on our list," she said bravely to the deity.

"Of course I do!" he said wretchedly, and the humans blinked in surprise. "Now it's all turned around. There are going to be big problems when I get back."

"Then… undo it," she said, lifting her chin.

"I can't," the angel snapped.

"Oh yes you _can_!" Sunny shouted.

The room stopped. Sam and Bobby held their breath, but Moon simply didn't have any left to grab a hold of. Four pairs of eyes centred on Sunny as she tossed her long hair over her shoulder and met the creature's gaze fearlessly.

"And you'd better, too!" she said forcefully. The creature blinked long, feline eyelashes at her.

"Why?" he asked cautiously.

"Look at him again," she said, pointing at Dean. "You say he's not our kind, that he could never be on our list. That's probably true," she added. "But look at him! Look what you've done! He wasn't going to stand for this ending, and neither am I!"

The creature studied her face for a long moment. Then he let his eyes drop to the rapidly cooling human on the carpet. He wandered over slowly, looking down at him.

"Just another male human," he observed. He put his paw out to Dean's chest, pushing slightly as if to make sure he were really dead. "But…" He tilted his head, then moved round slowly, taking in his face from different angles. He made a deep growling noise in the back of his throat, placing a large paw on Dean's t-shirt and pressing slightly, as if testing and listening. His growling got louder as he apparently found something he didn't like.

"_Shupshe_," Moon whispered, closing her eyes in anguish.

The angel snapped his head up to look at Moon, dismayed. Then he looked back down at Dean, yanking his paw away again in anger. He sprang to his feet, snarling and turning quickly to look at Moon.

"This is a _Shupshe_?" he demanded.

"I - er - he's just--"

"_Answer me_!" he raged. Everyone jumped. Sunny, her new-found courage born of frustration and despair nearly at its end, took a grateful step back.

"Uhm… well, yeah," Moon managed. "It's just a silly name, we just called him that cos--"

"And he brought you back to life!" the creature interrupted. "He brought you back to life!"

He threw his head back and a deafening roar thundered around the room. Everyone clamped hands over their ears in pain, watching the creature pour out his blatant outrage. He ran out of breath and let his head drop, turning on Moon with a snarl so quickly that she jerked backwards. She felt Bobby's hands round her upper arms and was instantly grateful. The angel pointed at her.

"You're making me do something I really don't want to do," he growled, his words accompanied by a constant threatening snarling noise.

She swallowed. Bobby's hands pressed into her arms and she took courage in the warmth.

"Wh - what?" she trembled.

The Angel of Death drew himself up, taking a deep breath and letting it out to calm his raging protestations. He pointed a paw at the dead Winchester slowly.

"What do you want for him?" he seethed.

There was a long silence.

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam piped up.

"What do you want for my transgression?" he repeated.

Moon blinked, then looked at Sam. He just let his mouth hang open, completely lost. There was the very small sound of someone clearing their throat and everyone turned and looked at Sunny.

"First, you have to bring him back to life - just like he was, _Shupshe_-spirit and all," she said bravely. "Then you have to leave Moon here. Cos I think I'm guessing she no longer belongs to you, right?"

The creature's bright blue eyes narrowed and he appraised Sunny slowly.

"Says who?" he asked curiously.

"Says us," Moon put in quickly. "You're not allowed to kill someone who's not on your list, right?"

"I don't _kill_ anyone!" he roared angrily. Everyone jumped.

"And - and you really aren't allowed to kill someone who's brought Moon back to life cos if he did that he'd be her new owner," Sunny gabbled, frightened. There was silence. "And - and - and then he'd be your peer in this deal."

"Peer?" he demanded, his nose wrinkling. He looked back down at Dean. "_Peer_?"

"As far as ownership goes, yes," Sunny said, recovering her bravado and folding her arms. "You want me to find the passage that proves it? Pukkeesis can read every one to you with very good pronunciation."

"Do not presume to dictate terms to _me_, child," he said coldly, and they all swallowed. He looked at Moon, then back down at Dean. "Was he aware of what he did, when he brought you back to life?"

"No," she admitted.

"And when he knew? What then?"

"He said it wouldn't matter anyway," Moon said quietly.

"And why is that? Does he not know the penalty for bringing you back?"

"I… tried to explain, but… He… He said it didn't matter. He didn't care," she managed, realising the entire room was bending closer to hear her.

"Why would it not matter?" the creature scoffed. "You're lying."

"No I am not!" she snapped indignantly. "He said it wouldn't matter, and now I know it's cos he's only got a month to live anyway!"

There was a stiff silence. The creature looked down at Dean thoughtfully.

"One month?" he asked, walking back to the dead hunter and crouching down to look at him. "Then what?"

Moon turned and looked at Sam. He cleared his throat. "He goes to Hell," he said quietly.

Sunny gasped and opened her mouth, but Moon grabbed her arm and shook her head at her. She clamped her mouth shut.

"You - the _Wakshi_ boy creature," he demanded, pointing at Sam. "What is this 'Hell'? Explain."

"Hell," Sam said clearly. "Like… Hades, Purgatory, eternal punishment, the Bad Fire… Hell."

The creature looked back down at him. "But… He has done many great deeds, righted many wrongs. Does he not go to the Garden when he dies?"

"Garden?" Sam prompted.

"Garden of Peace," Moon hissed at him.

"Oh! Er - no. No, he doesn't."

"That is wrong," the creature declared, getting to his feet with determination. "That is wrong."

"You're preaching to the choir," Bobby grumped.

The Angel of Death backed away from them all, surveying the room. "It started out such a good day," he mused, as if to himself. "I killed one of those evil shades. I found Pukkeesis." He sighed forlornly. "And then it all went horribly wrong."

Sam shifted his gaze to Dean hopefully, then back at the angel.

"You could make it all go away," he ventured. "You could do what you know you have to."

"I don't need you tell me that, soulless human," he snapped.

"So bring him back. And leave Moon to her new owner," Sunny said. "Or else."

"Or else _what_?" the angel scoffed, looking at her.

Sunny searched for something clever to say.

_One more good line_, she thought desperately. _All I need is one more good line to convince him we've got this all figured out, and we've won_. "We'll tell," she managed. _Oh. That wasn't it_, she realised. But she put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin. "Don't think we wouldn't. We know just the deity to talk to."

"Devious females," he cursed.

"And I know how to make the most of it, too," Sunny declared maliciously. "Well?"

The creature turned round in a circle.

"None of this should have happened today," he admitted. He huffed and then looked over at Dean. "Oh alright. Have your precious _Shupshe_ back. He's dead in a short time anyway."

Sam let out a long breath and bent over, his hands on his knees. Sunny reached out and grabbed Moon's hand quickly.

"And Pukkeesis?"

The creature looked at her. "She stays," he managed. "She's not mine any more."

Moon felt her knees buckle in relief. But something held her up and she managed to stop herself from simply passing out, hearing Bobby mutter something to her. Sunny let go of her hand, then took a step forward.

"Thank you," she said timidly. The creature studied her for a long moment, then shook his head head slightly.

"Don't thank me. Be thankful there are rules," he said wisely.

Sunny turned to a very weak Moon. She grinned in triumph, grabbing her younger sister from Bobby's supporting grip and crushing her in a hug.

"We did it!" Sunny gushed in her ear. Moon smiled weakly.

"You were… really cool," she chuckled. She heard a ragged breath but before she could check if it were Dean, Sam was barrelling past them all.

He crouched down next to his older brother, watching him suck in breath like he'd have to pay for it if not used. He waited till he was rolling eyes in confusion and put his hands out, grabbing his shirt. He helped him to stumble to his feet and let him look around in a rather dazed fashion.

Dean ran a dry tongue over a dry lip and squinted at the room, baffled. He realised something was holding him up and looked down to find Sam's hands on his arms.

"Whut's with--"

Sam cut him off with a hug of major squeezing proportions. Dean was nearly knocked off his feet, such was the ferocity of Sam's manoeuvre. He simply stood, dangling weakly in Sam's grip, trying to make his legs feel anything like the jelly they were.

"Don't you ever do such a stupid thing again," Sam breathed past his head.

"Ok," Dean agreed cheerfully, completely oblivious. "Whut'd I do?"

Sam pulled him back and grinned at him, holding onto him firmly. Dean grabbed hold of his brother's arm, as he had a sneaking suspicion that if he didn't, he would fall straight back to the carpet.

There was a stinging pain in the back of his head and Dean hissed, realising he'd been slapped.

"You stubborn eejit!" Bobby cursed at him. "You always gotta bring your own twisted idea of fairness into it, don't you!"

"Ok," Dean shrugged brightly, still lost. He let his hand fall from Sam's arm and looked around the room. "Woah," he observed. "Carnage Central. Why does Bobby's place always get trashed?"

"Cos I'm always stupid enough to let you two in," Bobby sighed.

Sam let go of Dean and looked at the two sisters with a very, very wide smile. Relief and more than a little happiness at the fact that everyone was present and correct made him straighten up properly and take a deep, relaxing breath.

"Someone want to tell me what happened after I grabbed the huge naked cat dude? Oh. Don't you ever tell anyone I just said that," Dean added quickly. But his voice was a little too thin, a little too cheerful. Sam recognised the sound of a very over-exhausted, oblivious brother and looked back at him. "Whut?" Dean asked. His left leg gave and Sam grabbed at his arm to stop him from falling. "Whut happened to ma legs?"

"I think you need a bed," Sam said wisely.

"Ok," Dean chirped happily. But he needed Sam's help to walk anywhere.

.

* * *

.

Sam and Bobby sat on the porch, watching the world go by. The bright sunshine beat down on them, bringing warmth and relaxation to a crazy afternoon. The cool breeze waved the tall grasses and slid over the beers in their hands, and small birds chased each other round the bottom of the wooden steps.

"So… Not such a bad day's work," Bobby observed.

"I think my heart nearly stopped about three times," Sam admitted ruefully, and Bobby smiled to himself.

"Worked out well in the end, though."

"Yeah," Sam managed uneasily. He watched the wind in the grass, listened to the birds in the air.

"If you're thinking about Dean's deal, think fast. There's one month left on it," Bobby said suddenly. Sam bit his lip, fighting with himself.

"I know," he allowed. "Believe me, I know. I just… I just don't know what to do."

"We'll find something," Bobby reassured him. Sam turned his head and looked at him, and Bobby was struck by the helplessness in the younger man's eyes.

"Really? Cos… we've been looking everywhere, Bobby. I don't know if there _is_ something we can do."

"Other people pull tricks out of the bag at the last minute, why can't we?" he grumped. "Shut up and drink your beer, Sam."

Sam swallowed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. He sighed edgily, squinting out at the sun.

"Here we go," Sunny called suddenly, opening the screen door behind them, carrying a book. She walked around Bobby and sat on the swing chair next to Sam comfortably, placing the tome on her knees. Sam looked the page over, but it appeared to be written in Potawatomi text and he gave up. She pointed to a picture of a representation of some cat, tapping it.

"And?" Sam shrugged.

"It's a cougar - a _Shupshe_. They're sacred animals to the higher deities. Like… er…"

"Like cows in India?" Bobby put in sweetly.

"Yes, like cows in--. I won't tell him you said that," she smiled.

"I will," Sam grinned. "So… he's not allowed to kill one?"

"No. Angels of Death are not allowed to _kill_ anyone," she replied. "All they can do is collect. By summoning him, we basically reminded him that Moon belonged to him, and that she wanted to leave. He came for her," she added more quietly.

"And anyone who touches an Angel of Death dies."

"Well he is kinda the Grim Reaper," Sunny nodded. "I thought Dean would have known that."

"I thought he would have known not to mix Jägermeister and tequila, but there you go," Sam breathed sadly, taking a swig of his beer. Sunny giggled and Bobby sat forwards.

"So is Moon free now?"

"She's been released from the angel's purview, yes," she allowed uneasily. She raised her eyes, looking at Sam and then Bobby before she cleared her throat. "But… she's now in Dean's. Cos he… well, cos he brought her back to life. Before."

"So he _owns_ her?" Sam gasped. "How does that work?"

"It means… well, she can't die while he's alive. If he does… she's on her own. Normal."

There was a silence, and Sam deliberately did not look at Bobby.

"And… and I want to say thank you," Sunny added quietly. "Without you two and your weirdo little demon war, this never would have been found out and fixed."

"Strange way to uncover a family secret," Bobby grumped.

"Yes. Isn't it," Sam said stiffly. He sipped his beer slowly.

"So what happens now?" Bobby asked. "Is everyone free to go?"

"Yup, pretty much," Sunny nodded.

"How's Moon doing?" Sam asked. Sunny smiled.

"She's great. She's really tired but… She's fine," she allowed. "We should get back home, I think."

"Well before you do, there's a library needs cleaning up," he said firmly, and the other two grinned. "And you two still owe me one bag of bark dust and one dream catcher stand, boy."

.

* * *

.

Moon opened the door slowly and looked in. She smiled cheekily to herself and crept into the room, over to the bed.

Dean was asleep face down, one arm dangling over the edge of the bed. He'd at least managed to get his boots and t-shirt off, but had seemed content to simply land on the bed in his jeans and pass out through exhaustion.

She tiptoed to the side of the bed, crouching down to see his face. Her smile faltered slightly at the weariness written round his eyes, and she swallowed to repair her good mood. She put her hand out slowly, sliding it through the hair above his ear, watching her fingers tease through the light, almost fluffy strands. Dean didn't move, didn't react, and she shook her head in wonder at his ability to sleep anywhere. Her hand stopped against his head and she closed her eyes.

"I know you can hear me," she whispered. "I'm just trying to thank you. You don't like it when people do that, but I have to. You know what you've done, and you know what it means to me. So be happy, just for one day, _Shupshe_. You've changed the world. At least, for my sister and me."

She opened her eyes, sliding her hand back against his head and sighing happily. She let her hand drop and got to her feet. She looked over at the door, then thought for a moment. She pulled off her boots, dropping them quietly to the floor and wrapping her cardigan round her more securely. She crept round the bed and pushed herself on, leaning her back against the heavy side of him. She let herself yawn and stretched before she sat up and looked around.

She turned and leaned over him, trying to reach his arm dangling over the edge of the bed. It was too far away and she tutted, getting up and walking round the bed. She put her hand to his fallen wrist and pulled it up, sliding it under the pillow slightly to trap it there. She walked back round and climbed back on the bed. She leaned over him again to grasp the edge of the blankets before pulling them toward her to cover him. They just about met his shoulder nearest her, and she smiled to herself. She turned around again, shifting down and curling back up comfortably. She felt a nasty weight fall from the back of her mind.

"You know, my grandma would be laughing if she could see this," she said to herself. "She always said I preferred her cat's company to everyone else's."

She squirmed, pushing her back against his side warmly and letting his quiet snore relax her. She closed her eyes for just a second. But then she was fast asleep.

.

* * *

.

The Impala rumbled down the evening road, the light starting to fade around her. She kept a steady speed and a sharp eye out for imperfections in the surface as her driver gripped the steering wheel, his concerned frown watching the miles whizz by.

He lifted his eyes to check the rear view mirror. Moon and Sunny were slumped in one end of the back seat, piled against each other as they slept soundly.

He looked back out of the windscreen briefly before sliding his eyes over to Sam. He was playing with his phone in the passenger seat, intent on something Dean presumed to be e-mail, judging by the way his eyes were skipping from side to side.

He cleared his throat and squirmed slightly in his seat, sighing uncomfortably. It made Sam look over at him surreptitiously.

"What?" he muttered, his eyes still reading avidly.

"Nothing," Dean grumped.

Sam huffed and let his hand and phone drop to his lap. "Seriously, what?"

"Just… Nothing," his elder brother said defensively.

"Right," Sam tutted.

It was silent for another few miles.

"See, what I don't get is why the jungle cat dude agreed to bring me back," Dean huffed.

"Moon didn't explain?" Sam asked. "I thought that's what she was doing in your room for an hour."

"Naw, man, didn't have time," Dean protested.

Sam's mouth fell open. "Dean. Don't tell me you--"

"I wus sleepin'," he interrupted archly.

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Of course," Sam said, a touch too quickly. "Then… once we've sent these two home, I'll explain."

Dean spared him a glance, then checked the girls were still asleep. "We don't have to leave straight away after dropping them back, you know," he offered gruffly. "We could hang around for a few days, I could--"

"No, Dean. It's better we just go," he replied sadly.

"If you think so," Dean said, lifting a hand from the wheel to hold it palm up. "I just think we could spend a few days--"

"No. I said no," Sam said quietly.

"Right you are, little brother," Dean breathed, "right you are."

.

* * *

.

He pulled the car up outside the house, killing the engine and sitting back. He put his right arm out over the seat, turning to smile at the car interior.

Sam was asleep, slumped sideways over in the passenger side, mouth hanging open. The girls were likewise out for the count, leaning on each other in the corner of the back seat.

Dean shook his head, leaning over and pushing at Sam's shoulder. "C'mon, rise and shine," he called.

Sam jumped and his mouth snapped shut quickly. He righted himself and pushed his hands into his eyes, rubbing briskly. Dean opened his door and got out, stretching in the night air and squeaking the door closed.

He heard Sam waking the girls and tapped the top of the car, walking back and opening the rear door.

"Here we are, ladies," he said cheerfully. Sunny climbed out first, looking a little bleary eyed. She cleared her throat and smiled at him though, stretching against the side of the car. Moon slid out and sprang to her feet, alert and curious.

"Home," she said gratefully, as Dean shut the door behind her. She just looked at the house, letting her shoulders sag. "At last."

"So… ah, are you… Are you two off now?" Sunny asked lightly, looking at Sam as he walked around the car to the pavement too.

"Yeah," he allowed. "We… We have things to do."

"Yeah," Sunny said uneasily. "Yeah." She walked over and stopped in front of him. "I will miss you," she admitted.

"Yeah," Sam managed, conscious of his brother's gaze. Dean turned round to look at Moon deliberately. He scratched his head in a way that conveyed there was absolutely no need.

"You gonna survive without me, then?" he asked cheekily.

"I was just going to ask you the same question," she grinned. "Thanks."

"You said that already."

"Well I'm saying it again." She stood up on tiptoes, pulling at his jacket lapels. She tipped him down to her and kissed him firmly, a safe distance from the side of his mouth. "That was for the Bruce Campbell and Jeffrey Combs movies." She kissed the other side. "That was for the pie." He smiled at her, and she tilted her head. "And this for not being an asshole after all." She pulled him down more and this time aimed straight for his lips.

He stiffened in shock on contact but she was already pulling him back again, giggling at his discomfort. She patted at his jacket gently, chuckling. He sniffed and put a hand up to the back of his neck, trying to smile politely. It came out a little worried and she laughed out loud, stepping back one.

There was an echoing laugh and Dean cleared his throat, looking over to see Sam chuckling quite hard at his brother's momentary distress.

"Well, ah, ok," Dean managed, looking back at Moon. He straightened and cleared his throat again professionally. "So let me know when '_My Name Is Bruce_' is showing round here. I'll come back."

"You'd better. Stop this Deal thing and come back," she winked. "_Kshe'mnito kapma yawok pama mine' waje'wapte'kon_," she added, pushing at his front.

"Great," he nodded, oblivious.

"Gods be with you till me meet again," she said.

"Aw no - if I _see_ another god ever, it'll be too soon," he groaned, and she chuckled. She put her arms round him and hugged.

"Take care."

"And you."

She closed her eyes, leaning her temple against his neck and concentrating for a long moment.

Something warm pressed on the inside of his head, something gentle but incredibly strong. Just for a moment, everything was ok. Just for a moment, everything was understood and forgiven. It was gone just as suddenly as it had appeared, and it made him shiver slightly. He opened his eyes and let her go, looking down at her with his eyebrows raised.

She just winked and pulled herself free, nodding once. She turned and walked away to the house, finding her keys to the door. His eyes followed her as she made the door, the security light blinking on hazily as she unlocked the front door. He watched her open, mulling things over in his head.

"Think I just got a brain-hug," he smiled to himself, and she turned, looking back. She was smiling, and he grinned self-consciously. "Yeah, alright, it was kinda cool."

She nodded and waved a hand quickly. Then she was gone, inside the house. Dean chuckled ruefully, shaking his head.

"You know what? I think I'm going to miss that kid. Hey Sammy, let's--." He stopped short, finding Sam very much occupied kissing Sunny a goodbye. "Oh." He looked at his feet, sniffed, and then turned around, looking at the street in the darkness. He gave it a long minute, then turned back to him. "Oh." He flicked his gaze down to his watch, scratched at his head, and whistled innocently to himself. Then he cleared his throat and gave up. "Hey, leave the pattern, huh?" he called across the pavement.

Sam pulled his head from Sunny's, smiling apologetically.

"Bye," she said quietly.

"Bye."

He nodded to her and she pulled her bag over her shoulder more comfortably. She looked at her feet and walked off quickly, toward the house. She ran up the few steps and through the open door, closing it quickly.

Sam just looked at the house for a long moment, then let out a long sigh. He could sense his brother's attention on him and turned slowly. He put his hands out in query as he walked back round into the road, and the passenger door.

"What?" he demanded boldly.

Dean blinked at him in complete innocence. "Nuthin', man. Nuthin'," he said lightly, walking back to the driver's door and squeaking it open.

"Don't look at me like that," Sam protested, his hand on the door handle. "I see Little Xena was sweet on you after all," he added maliciously. "Having second thoughts about the younger woman?"

_You have no idea, Sammy Boy, no idea at all what she knows about me and what all that just meant_. "Sam, that's all kindsa nasty," he said out loud, disgusted. "Go get some bleach for that one-track mind you got."

"Me?" Sam gasped. "It's your fault we even got into this mess - if you hadn't been so goddamned desperate to hook me up with Sunny in the first place, none of this would have happened!"

"Hey, don't start on me. I wasn't the one who shot demons in the basement, making her brother come and try and get revenge, remember, _Wakshi_?" he shot back, smiling sweetly. "By the way, you know that's a fox, right?"

"Yeah? So?"

"So you get to be the vermin that gets shot at by farmers," he grinned.

"Or the clever one that gets the cheese in Aesop's Fables," he pointed out.

"Or the villain in all the kids' tales." He gasped suddenly. "Dude, you ate the Gingerbread Man!" He chuckled and Sam just shook his head, smiling. "Least I got the cool one - I'm a cougar, man."

"You know what _that_ means," he grinned.

Dean stopped short, thinking. "Whut?"

"You're a pussy!"

Dean's face dropped into an angry scowl. "Get in the car, Sam."

"Ok, pussy."

"Car!"

"Awww, is big bwave puddy tat gonna try and be tough?" Sam cooed.

Dean slammed his door shut. He put his hand on the wing of the Impala to aid his flight around it. Sam jumped in fright. Then he turned and ran, hearing Dean's heavy boots gaining on him as they both pounded down the street.

**THE END**

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Hope you liked it. Really took a lot to get this finished, and I'm indebted to the many people who have already left me encouraging comments, as well as the downright blush-worthy extra-specially amazing ones (yes, _**Benigma**_, I'm talking to you!). Thanks everyone - your time spent reading and leaving a review or comment has really made my day!

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I will return - with more Winchester stories. I feel a season 4 tale coming on...

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